


Not all Cats are Grey in the Dark, J2, RPS, AU, NC-17

by fufaraw (arliss)



Category: Real Person Fiction, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Blowjobs, Frottage, M/M, M/M freeform, Murder Mystery, Threesome - F/M/M, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2050674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arliss/pseuds/fufaraw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mourning his husband's death in a hostage situation gone wrong, Jared left LAPD and big city crime for the Middlebrook Sheriff's Department, seeking a slower pace and time for his heart to heal. It seems like he's found a refuge, getting to know the locals, but Middlebrook isn’t just the friendly small town he’d hoped for. Murder rears its ugly head, and nothing about the case is clearcut. His nights haunted by nightmares of his dead husband, Jared spends his days working to solve the case. Nothing comes easy, and the gorgeous man with green eyes he meets on his second night in town isn’t making things any easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Fic Title:** **Not all Cats are Grey in the Dark**  
**Author Name:** [](http://fufaraw.livejournal.com/profile)[**fufaraw**](http://fufaraw.livejournal.com/)  
**Artist Name:** [](http://mishmellow.livejournal.com/profile)[**mishmellow**](http://mishmellow.livejournal.com/)  
**Genre:** RPS, AU  
**Pairing:** J2  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** 35,581  
**Warnings:** m/m sex, handjobs, blowjobs. also, polyandry, committed threesome (not J2)  
**Written for:** [](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/)**spn_j2_bigbang** 2014  
**Summary:** Jared was a cop moving up in the department, happily married until a hostage situation went horribly wrong, and Jared had to deal with the tragic loss of his husband. Jared left the LAPD for a fresh start with the sheriff's department in small-town Middlebrook. Though still troubled by nightmares about the day his husband died, Jared's moving on, meeting new people. Jensen plays guitar and sings in a local band on weekends, and Jared really wants to get to know him better. But for all Jared's charm, Jensen just isn't interested in sex. As they get better acquainted, Jared realizes his path to happiness includes letting go of the past, and a different way of loving.

  
[ Beautiful ePUB cover ]

* * *

The Sheriff's Department was on Main Street, just like the directions said. Jared eyed the one-story brick structure, an enormous contrast with the precinct buildings he was accustomed to. He swallowed and made an effort not to judge before he had a chance to know more. There were lots of empty parking slots along the curb, another bit of high contrast to what he was used to. Several spaces were marked for department use, but he pulled the truck into a regular slot and chirped the door lock as he pocketed his keys. He took no time to adjust his appearance, aside from raking fingers through his hair to get it off his face, before he pushed open one of the double glass doors and walked up to the reception desk. Phones rang, quickly answered by a woman in a deputy's uniform and a kid in jeans and a hoodie. The deputy on the desk looked Jared over when he stepped up and introduced himself.

"Hi. I'm Jared Padalecki. I'd like to speak to Sheriff Morgan, if he's got time."

A smile broke across the deputy's face. He reached a hand across the desk, and Jared shook it. "Jared, hey. Jason Manns. I heard you were coming, it's good to meet you."

Jared grinned in response, while Jason went on. "Jeff's on the phone, but have a seat." He waved at the row of hard plastic chairs in the waiting area. "I'll let him know you're here."

Jason stepped away toward a half-glassed door behind the bullpen with "Sheriff J.D. Morgan" lettered in black on the glass, knocked perfunctorily and pushed it open enough to look in and murmur his news. He eased the door shut and came back to the desk. "We weren't expecting you till tomorrow or the next day."

Jared still stood; he'd been driving since morning, and needed to stretch his legs. "I thought I'd check into the motel, have a look around town, maybe start looking for an apartment," he said, and Jason nodded.

"Yeah, better to get your bearings a little before you dive in, right?"

Jared started to answer, but the sheriff's door opened, and an older man with a short salt-and-pepper beard headed toward them, hat in one hand. He smiled at Jason. "You get Miz Kelly's complaint taken care of?"

Jason rolled his eyes and grinned. "Yessir."

The sheriff grinned right back. "Good." He turned to Jared, then, and offered a handshake. "Jeff Morgan, pleased to meet you, Jared." He flung a glance back over the desk at Manns. "Gonna walk Jared down to the coffee shop. Got my phone."

"Yessir," Jason answered, and Jeff put a hand on Jared's shoulder to steer him out the doors. They hit the sidewalk at a fast walk, and Jeff settled the comfortably worn-in Stetson on his head.

"Man, I've been sitting too long today. I'm glad of the excuse to get out of the office," he grinned, dimples creasing both bearded cheeks. He took a deep breath, and blew it out, and Jared just waited till Jeff had something else to say. The coffee shop was a block down Main Street--Jared had passed it on the drive in. Jeff stepped up to the counter and ordered black coffee. "And one of those," he pointed to a cinnamon twist in the bakery case, and turned to inquire what Jared wanted.

Jared shook his head at the pastries, but ordered a vanilla frappuccino, regular. Rather than finding seats at one of the little tables, they took their coffees outside, and Jeff strolled further down the block. Jared soon saw they were headed for a stretch of shady green. It was a park, right on Main Street, shaded by several widely spaced live oaks. They passed through the opening in the low stone wall that separated the grass from the sidewalk, and Jeff headed toward a bench to sit and eat his pastry.

The bench was freshly painted a shiny enamel green, set along one of the flower-lined paths. There was no trash or graffiti anywhere Jared could see. A young woman in jeans and a tee shirt pushed a baby in a stroller along a path, her toddler stopping every few steps to bend forward and smell one of the flowers. She didn't seem worried the boy might pick up a cigarette butt, or worse, and stick it in his mouth. Jared took in the carefully tended green space, noting a couple apparently deep in conversation on another bench, and a pair of elderly men at a picnic table, a chessboard between them, before he sat down. "This is really nice."

Jeff nodded, and licked a few cinnamon sugar crystals off his lips. "Yeah, we have the Amateur Gardeners' Society, and a couple of other groups that keep the grass trimmed, and what little trash there is picked up. Most people appreciate it enough to use the trashcans." He took a sip of his coffee, and then pointed his chin toward the brightly painted bins that stood at several places around the little park, and spoke around another bite of cinnamon pastry. "Folks come out to eat lunch in good weather, or walk and stretch a bit. It's nice to have a little bit of green in town where people can use it."

Jared didn't say anything, just sipped at his coffee and watched the mom with the stroller and her little boy as they moved along the path.

Finished with his pastry, Jeff wiped his lips with the napkin and crumpled it in his fist, sipping his coffee. He regarded Jared across the cup. "So. LA, huh? Middlebrook is going to seem like...I don't know, amateur hour, after that, right?"

Jared eased his back against the bench and took another sip of his coffee. He smiled, glanced at the sheriff and away again. "I guess. I just--needed a change."

Jeff nodded. Jared knew all the facts were in his file, the reasons he'd stated for resigning from the LAPD, including the personal ones. That should be enough.

"Well, we're grateful to have you. If you ever want to talk about it," Jeff began, but Jared shook his head, stood, and stretched his arms over his head, arched his back.

"Man, I need a workout," he grinned. "All that driving." He met the sheriff's gaze, then. "Thanks, sir,"

"Jeff," the sheriff instructed.

"Thanks, Jeff," Jared nodded. "I appreciate the offer. But I'm trying to put all that behind me and move on. New start," he grinned again, sweeping the green space with a glance. "New life."

Jeff held his gaze for a second, then nodded. "Well, all right." He stood too, draining the last of his coffee, and started walking toward the trash bins at the exit. "If you're serious about a workout, we've got the beginnings of a gym in the basement at the station. Some weights, a heavy bag."

Jared nodded his approval. "Sounds good."

"And you're welcome to use the track at the high school when it's not in use," Jeff went on. "There're lots of running and hiking trails outside of town, too. I'll get you a map." He tossed his coffee cup, and Jared did likewise. "Come on, let me show you the amenities," he said, starting back to the station, and Jared followed.

Having been given the tour, and a key to one in the bank of lockers downstairs where the showers and changing room were, as well as the small gym, Jared was told to go explore the town. "You can hang around the station if you want to, but let's say you start, officially, on Monday, okay?"

That was fine with Jared, it gave him time to find an apartment. 

*  *  *

After following up the next morning on a couple of ads in the local classifieds, and finding both places far below his minimum standards, he stopped by the department to see if maybe Jason or anybody else had any leads on a place.

"Uh, dude?" Jason said. "Are you dead set on an apartment?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know Miss Maisie rents out the finished attic in her house. It's got a separate entrance, but it's small. There's a couple other people in town who rent a bedroom, or a garage apartment. I know of one family that rents their guesthouse full time. But you'd be living on somebody else's property, and I don't know how much privacy you'd have. And as for apartment complexes, there's really only one or two, and, well..."

"What?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to live there. They're small, and rundown, and noisy."

Jared nodded agreement. He'd just come from there. "I gotta live somewhere."

"Yeah, but look, you're not in LA anymore. My brother-in-law lived there for a while, and from what he said about renting in Los Angeles? I'll bet you could find a whole house here in a nice neighborhood for what you're used to spending on a tiny little apartment." He pointed across the street, where a smart storefront carried a shingle that read, _Lauren Tom, realtor_. "I bet Lauren can find you something nice by the end of the day."

"Yeah?"

"Sure. Give her a chance. She knows her stuff."

Lauren did indeed know her stuff. She took him by two houses that afternoon, both of them nice, in quiet neighborhoods. He was impressed at the space his budget could afford, but neither of the places felt quite right. She promised to find him the right place, and he was kind of surprised that he believed her.

*  *  *

His first night in town he'd gotten takeout from the Burger King he'd passed on the way in, and eaten in his motel room. But tonight he decided he was ready for a real meal, even if he didn't have a kitchen to cook it himself. There were a couple of places in town, including a bar down on the far side of town--a distance he was used to walking to pick up takeout or a six of beer. He drove down to take a look, though, using the truck for protective coloration. Blend in with the locals. Pedestrians seemed scarce in his short acquaintance with the town. There was a good number of vehicles in the parking lot, especially for a week night, and the sign advertised food. But Jared wasn't in the mood for bar food. When asked, Jason had recommended Kane's on Main, just a block or two past the sheriff's office in the opposite direction from the bar. There wasn't any outside advertising, other than a professionally hand-lettered sign, "Kane's Cafe," on a scrolled iron bracket over the door, and the storefront was painted neatly, a bland blue, with darker blue door and window frames. Tubs of flowers flanked the door. There were no empty parking spots in front along the curb, but a car was just pulling out of a space across the street, and he quickly parked in the vacant spot. His stomach rumbled with hunger as he headed toward the cafe.

The interior was cozily dim, but well-lighted enough to see details as he followed the hostess to a table: fabric tablecloth and napkins in a dark forest green, the floor paved in 12-inch Saltillo tiles, sturdy but comfortable dark wood chairs, and polished dark wood benches lining the pale coral-painted walls. He slid into the bench and accepted the menu the hostess offered with a smile. The contented murmur of voices and an occasional ripple of laughter was a counterpoint to soft jazz on the sound system, at a volume low enough that conversation didn't need to compete. The gentle clink of utensils on china and ice cubes against glass punctuated the ambient, comfortable background sounds.

Candles in glass holders flickered on the tables. The water glass was a footed tumbler, bubbles scattered all through the thick glass. The flatware was cast stainless steel, heavy but balanced in the hand, not that thin stamped stuff that bent when you cut into your food. Jared's estimation of the place had gone up more than a couple of notches. He gave his attention to the menu, his gaze rising now and then to study the room.

There was a couple seated in one of the booths, a blond woman and an attractive black man, holding an animated conversation. He could only see the back of the woman's head and her hands as she gestured, but the smile on the man's face as he responded to her was fond and indulgent. He wore a dark suit and a crisp white shirt. Jared couldn't tell what the woman was wearing, other than her shoulders were clad in a dull, dark red.

The bell over the door signaled the entry of a tall guy in slacks and a polo shirt. He was nice-looking, short hair artfully bed-rumpled and gelled into soft spikes. His face lit in a smile, and he quickly crossed to the couple’s booth. He bent to exchange a kiss on the mouth with the man, then slid into the booth beside the woman, his arm around her shoulders while she cuddled into him. They exchanged a kiss, too, one that lingered a little longer.

The black guy caught him looking, so Jared smiled and dropped his gaze to the menu. His eyebrows rose--the entrees were impressive. Jason had been right, this wasn't your run of the mill cafe or diner menu. It was short, only offering beef and fish with a choice of four sides, and two desserts. But each of the items listed required skill in preparation, more expertise than most short order cooks possessed. Making his choices, he glanced up to look for a waitperson.

The door to the kitchen swung open. The man in the short white chef's jacket didn't look like a waiter, with a folded bandana tied around his brow and hair gathered at his nape in a ponytail. He moved quickly, scanning the tables until his glance fell on the group in the booth. He quickly reached them, dipping down to exchange kisses with the guy and the woman whose backs were to Jared, before leaning in to exchange a deeper kiss with the black man. A hand in a crisp white shirt cuff, flashing a cufflink, came up to stroke and cup the chef's face. As the chef ended the kiss and stood, he clasped the hand in his own and kissed the palm before letting it go.

Huh, thought Jared.

The chef leaned a hand on the other man's shoulder, aiming a fond smile at the blond woman as the four of them chatted, laughing. The chef raked the tables with an assessing gaze, giving Jared a slight nod, before bending quickly to drop a kiss on the short, spiked hair of the man who faced away from Jared, and stepping back toward the kitchen. The door swung shut behind him, and moments later a young woman in a short white jacket approached Jared's table to take his order.

The steak, when it came sizzling on its steel platter, was six quarter-inch slices cut cross grain off a two-inch thick steak, seared and caramelized on the edges, still rosy at the center. Accompanied by roasted asparagus dressed in olive oil and coarse sea salt, and sweet potato chunks done just fork-tender and tossed with butter, cracked black pepper, minced garlic, and ginger, and dusted with dill, the steak was dressed with fresh creminis braised in red wine. He couldn't help sitting still for a moment or two, regarding his meal with awed anticipation. He took a sip from his glass of house red, and picked up his knife and fork.

*  *  *

Replete, Jared refused coffee and the tempting desserts, finished the last of his wine, and touched his lips with his napkin. That meal had been well worth the price, and he left a generous tip, paid his bill and left the restaurant, crossing the street to climb into his truck. Before he got the key in the ignition, the restaurant's door swung open and the blond woman came out, followed by the chef. Under the streetlight, they embraced on the sidewalk, swaying a little, arms wound tight as they kissed. The guy in the polo shirt emerged and walked up to them, embracing the woman from behind, his arms wrapped about both of them as he molded his body to hers. They broke the kiss, and she turned her head to meet the man behind her in an over the shoulder kiss. Huh, Jared thought again, key still not in the ignition.

The door opened again and the tall black man in the suit smiled when he saw the trio. He walked up behind the guy in the polo shirt and wrapped his long arms around all of them. The guy broke off kissing the woman as the black man nuzzled into his neck. The chef leaned forward, dropping a soft peck on the woman's lips before he captured the mouth of the man behind her, who enthusiastically shared the deep and thorough kiss. The woman's hand reached behind her to caress the sharp-chiseled jaw of the black man, before dropping down to cup his butt cheek and pull him tighter against the man between them.

No, really, Jared's mind stuttered. Huh.

Afraid to be caught looking, Jared held still until the kiss ended and the group broke reluctantly apart. The woman and the black guy walked hand in hand down the sidewalk, until they got into a dark red SUV and drove off, with the woman at the wheel. The chef gave the remaining man a quick kiss on the cheek and waved as he walked in the same direction the others had gone. By the time he turned the corner, the chef had disappeared back inside the restaurant.

Jared blinked and blew out a breath. He wasn't sure what he had just witnessed, but it was hot. Key finally in the ignition, he started back to the motel.

*  *  *

The radio crackled, and Harry stopped crabbing about his mother-in-law. "All available units, 246 in progress, possible two seven three-D, 488 Juniper Circle. Shots fired." Jared cranked the siren and the lights as Harry made a tight left turn. "Shit. I hate domestic violence calls." Jared couldn't disagree.

The driveway was full of patrol units, lights flashing, and more pulled up at the curb. The lieutenant on scene had a bullhorn, exhorting the gunman inside the house to release his wife and two sons. Neighbors and onlookers crowded behind the yellow tape at the edge of the yard, and a TV station van had pulled up onto the lawn next door. A woman in a suit, microphone in her hand, was speaking earnestly into a stedi-cam carried by a guy in tee shirt and jeans.

"How old are the kids?" Jared asked one of the uniforms who was already on scene. He retrieved his and Harry's vests from the trunk and handed Harry's off to him.

"Six and eight," the officer said, frowning.

"Damn," Harry spat, buckling on his vest.

"Has he made any demands?" Jared settled the straps on his own vest, and snugged down the velcro. The patrolman shook his head.

"From what the neighbor said, he's off his nut with drugs. He probably doesn't know what he wants, except to kill somebody."

Movement in his peripheral view drew Jared's attention as an EMS unit rolled up, followed by a fire truck. The doors of the unit opened, and Jared straightened. Sure enough, Raul stepped out of the passenger side. Sighting Jared, he nodded, and gave a wry smile, which Jared returned, before shifting his attention back to the events unfolding inside the house.

Two shots were fired, followed by screaming, and another shot. The lieutenant called the gunman's name, demanding to know what was going on. There was movement as the front door opened slowly, and a small boy edged around it, holding his hands in the air. He stopped and spoke to a smaller boy behind him, who also put his hands up. Both of them were crying.

A uniform sprinted, crouching, toward the front of the house, angling in toward the front stoop where the children stood, their hands still raised. The officer scooped up the smaller child and sheltered the older boy with his body as he hurried them toward the police line. A female officer met them, and shepherded the boys back behind the cover of a police van. There was another ambulance there, and the paramedics moved in to check the boys over.

A woman's scream drew the officers' attention back to the house, and at the lieutenant's instructions, officers rammed the door and entered with weapons drawn, Jared and Harry among them.

The living room was a mess, furniture overturned, pictures and objects smashed. In the middle of the debris, a woman and a man lay, the woman bleeding from a belly wound. There were bruises coloring up on her face, and her lip was split, but she was still alive. A man, presumably the shooter, lay in the center of the floor, clutching his thigh with both hands and yelling incomprehensibly, except for the litany of profanity. An officer had bagged his gun, and officers were searching the house. Calls of "clear!" sounded as each room was swept. Another woman, apparently the estranged wife of the shooter, was kneeling by the wounded woman, crying and trying to staunch the blood of her wound.

"Are we secure?" the lieutenant asked the senior uniformed officer.

"Yes, sir."

The lieutenant beckoned at the door. "Get the paramedics in here, then. See to these people."

Raul's partner, Travis, came in with the kit, and Raul was on his heels. He knelt beside the wounded man, and tried to get him to take his hands off his thigh so Raul could assess the wound. The shooter was still cursing and rocking on the floor, but he moved his bloody hands and let the paramedics examine him.

There was a scuffling in the hall, and one of the uniforms shouted, "Gun!" just as a shot sounded in the enclosed space. The four men closest to the second shooter took him down and disarmed him. The crisis over, Jared looked back to where Raul was working.

A scarlet stain was spreading across Raul's midsection. His hands touched it in something like wonder, and he looked at his hands in the bloody gloves, like he'd never seen them before. Frozen to the spot, Jared watched Raul fold forward, and then crumple slowly to the floor, the blood staining his shirt spreading in a fast-widening pool beneath him.

"Raul." Jared was on his knees by his side, as Travis worked to pull Raul's shirt away, and assess the wound. Blood continued to pour between Raul's hands as Travis slapped a pressure bandage on him and pressed it tight.

"Baby?" Jared took Raul's face in his hands, made their eyes meet. "Hold on. It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be fine. Travis is here, and we'll get you on the bus and back to General. They'll fix you right up--"

Raul's eyes rolled, and Jared shook him, just a little, panic and tears edging his voice. "Raul? Baby? I'm right here, man. Look at me. Raul?"

Raul did. He gave Jared the sweetest smile, and tried to speak, but bright blood bubbled between his lips, and he tried to cough. Jared felt him shudder and jerk, and then go boneless. "Raul? Baby?"

Raul's gaze met Jared's, and then his eyes lost focus. And then he was gone. "Raul?" He turned to Travis. "Get him back! Get the paddles, shock him! Do what you do, to get him back!"

"Jared." Travis's voice was so soft, so full of sorrow, and Jared could sympathize, they'd been partners for years. No man wants to lose his partner. He suddenly couldn't pull in a breath. Something in his chest felt like it was squeezing his heart, like it was going to tear in two. He struggled to draw breath, and Travis's hand landed on his arm.

"Jared, he's gone. Let go." Harry was there, supporting and restraining Jared while Travis tried to take Raul out of Jared's arms, but Jared couldn't let that happen. He snarled defensively at Travis, and then his heart beat, hard, and he sucked in a breath tainted with the bitter scent of blood and burnt flesh, and Raul was a heavy, inert weight in his arms. He raised his head and howled his anguish, and never felt the prick in his arm when Travis sedated him.

*  *  *

Jared sat up, gasping, in the dark, his heart hammering. A quick look around had him oriented: motel, Middlebrook. He threw the covers aside and stalked to the bathroom, turning on the faucet and sticking his head in the sink to scoop handfuls of water over his face and the back of his neck. He shook his wet hair, and dried off with a towel, filling and drinking two or three tumblers of cold water. The lighted clock numbers beside the bed read 4:18 AM, and he admitted he wouldn't get back to sleep. He pulled on a pair of shorts and his sneakers, and found a hoodie in his duffle. He pocketed his room key and pulled the door shut behind him, and started running, hoping to shed the dream as he ran.

*  *  *

Lauren had several possible rentals for Jared to look at, so Friday was spent touring a few of them. The first two were in the same neighborhood, and Jared wasn't sure how well he would fit into a suburb of minivans and backyard swing sets. The third house he looked at was a little cottage tucked away on a heavily wooded lot. "Lots of privacy," Lauren said cheerfully, gauging his reaction to the older home. "It needs some repair, but the landlord assures me he's willing to take care of that."

Jared wandered through the tiny rooms, up the narrow staircase to a pair of even tinier bedrooms, and a bathroom where he had to stand in the tub to close the door.

"Charming," was his verdict. "But, it's not the place for me. It feels like a dollhouse."

Lauren tilted her head to smile up at him. "Yes, I can see how you would feel that way. I should have thought of that, but I did want to show you a range of places." She made a few notations on her tablet. "I have two or three other houses I think might suit you better," she offered. "Can you look at one more today? And then we can tour the others tomorrow afternoon, if that's okay with you. I have a couple of other appointments in the morning."

"Sure," Jared nodded. It wasn't as though he had a lot else to do, and it would be nice to get out of the motel and start settling in someplace before he started the new job.

The next house was a one-story, set back on the lot and flanked with well-landscaped shrubs, trees, and a flower bed or two. He doubted he'd have the time or the expertise to keep up with the grounds, but it was very pleasant to look at. The neighbors were fairly close, but the landscaping provided privacy on either side. He was curious whether the back was as private.

The house itself was mid-century modern, dark wood and stone and glass, with clean, asymmetrical lines. It looked expensive.

Lauren opened the front door and they stepped into a foyer with a flagstone floor and a view straight through the house, through a wall of glass to the back yard. Jared walked over, clicked off the lock and slid open the glass doors, stepping out onto a wide deck that looked onto a very green space. It wasn't a big yard, but with the wall of the detached garage, wooden privacy fencing, and carefully placed plantings, the yard was completely private.

Lauren stood waiting in the living room, smiling when Jared turned back. "Shall we look at the bedrooms?"

There were two of them, small, but both of them large enough for a bed and dresser, each room with a decent closet. There was a single bath, again, not large, but big enough not to feel cramped. The fixtures were white and clean and in good repair. All that was left to investigate was the kitchen. It was functional, with fairly up-to-date appliances, including a sturdy-looking washer and dryer, and adequate cabinets and counter space.

"Your floors are hardwood throughout, with ceramic tile in the bath," Lauren pointed out. The kitchen was separated from the living room by a worktop counter, extended to provide enough room to slide a couple of stools underneath for a breakfast counter, and there was room by the glass wall for a dining table and chairs. The living room had a stone fireplace and built-in bookshelves on either side of the stone chimney that rose to the angle of the roof peak, with clear glass from the top of the shelves to the roofline.

They walked outside to take a look at the garage. It was surprisingly dry, with a concrete floor, large enough to accommodate his truck and still have space for the heavy wooden workbench, and shelves for storage along one wall. A door opened into the back yard.

"How much is this place?" Jared asked, positive he wouldn't be able to afford it.

"You know," Lauren answered. "There's less square footage here than in both the houses you saw this morning. And there's less 'period charm' than in the older two-story. This really isn't a family house, and it hasn't moved well because of that. I think you'll be surprised at the rental," she smiled, before she gave him the figures.

Jared looked around at the fireplace, the glass panels filling the gable in the end wall, the shining wood floors, and out through the glass doors to the green and shady back yard. "What's the catch?" he wanted to know. Rental on this place was less than they'd--than the condo payments had been, in LA.

"You'd be responsible for repairs and upkeep. If there's something major, structural, for instance, the estate would assess it and pay for it, or at least a part. But there's no landlord to do groundskeeping or regular maintenance. That would be up to the tenant. And of course, the estate would expect the house and grounds to be maintained at the present level, or better."

He had helped his folks around their house growing up, of course, but Jared had never owned a place. He didn't know if he'd have the time, or the ability to manage upkeep. But the rental fee was temptingly low, and he really liked the house.

"Let's take a look at a couple more tomorrow afternoon," Lauren suggested. "Before you make a final decision. And if you do decide, we can start the paperwork on Monday."

Jared nodded. He'd take a look at the other places, but he really liked this house. He thanked Lauren when they pulled up at her office, and set a time to meet on Sunday. He thought about going back to the motel to use the pool, but he wasn't ready to return to that stuffy little room. A session with the weights would be good, he thought, crossing the street to the sheriff's station.

*  *  *

"Come out with me to the bar tonight." Jason retrieved a jacket from his locker. He had been on duty since 8:00 that morning, while Jared had spent most of the day following Lauren around, looking at houses. Jason had exchanged his uniform for civvies and Jared from workout gear to street clothes. "Meet some people, have some fun," he added.

Jared hesitated. It had been a while since he had been in the mood for fun. Still, new place, new people. Why not? "Sure."

"Cool. The Ferris Wheel, a half-mile east on Main, seven o'clock." Jason smoothed his tee shirt and shrugged into the jacket, glancing at Jared for confirmation. "Live music tonight."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, local band. They're pretty good."

The Ferris Wheel was the bar Jared had checked out for dinner the other night. Only tonight, every spot in the lot was full. He pulled around behind the dumpster and parked alongside the handful of cars that spilled over into the neighboring vacant lot. There wasn't a lit-up neon Ferris wheel on the sign over the door, or anything inside the building that spoke of circus, or midway--or roulette, which would have been Jared's next guess. He gave a mental shrug, sliding onto a stool and sending a practiced look over the patrons at tables and in booths along two of the walls, and a group around the pool table tucked away toward the back.

"What can I get you?" a pleasant-faced woman asked him, smiling over his shoulder at someone passing.

"Whatever you've got on tap."

"I'm Sam," she said, slipping a coaster under the glass with a perfect head, a trickle of froth just easing over the rim. "I own the place."

He stuck out a hand. "Jared."

She tilted her chin up in inquiry as she shook his hand. "The new deputy, right?"

He nodded, and when she gave him a more assessing look, he asked, "Why 'Ferris Wheel'?"

She barked a laugh, and the corners of her eyes crinkled. "Sam Ferris. I just called it a bar, but somebody nicknamed it, and it stuck."

He smiled again, sharing the joke.

She moved away, telling him. "You need anything else, just holler."

He relaxed on his stool, watching the crowd, taking in the mellow atmosphere. The lighting wasn't exactly low; it was adequate in the corners, enough to show the place was clean and well kept. But it wasn't glaring, either, soft enough to be relaxing. The clack of a cue on billiard balls caught his ear, and he surveyed the table, recognizing the guy in the polo shirt from the restaurant the other night. He wore jeans and an open button-down over a t-shirt tonight. He moved around the table methodically, sinking balls without dinking a one, till the table was cleared, and a groan went up from his opponent. He stood and grinned, and finished off his beer. The loser offered up a couple of bills, and the winner waved them away. "Buy me another beer," Jared half read his lips. "We'll call it even."

A hand fell on Jared's shoulder. "Hey man," Jason said, looking casual out of uniform, and with a guitar case in hand.

"Hey," Jared said. "You play?"

"Yeah, little bit. Can I get you a beer?"

"No, hey, let me," Jared answered, lifting his glass with a glance toward Sam. "You can get the next round."

"Okay," Jason agreed. "Let me get rid of this," he lifted the guitar a little. "I'll be right back."

There was a small stage at the opposite end of the room from the pool table, and Jared watched Jason's progress to a door on one side of the stage, and smiled when he emerged without the guitar. Local boys, huh? Well, he'd reserve judgment till after the performance. Jason made his way to the pool table, and he and the winner exchanged a hug. Jason said something and the winner laughed, before Jason turned to come back to the bar. He slid onto the stool before the fresh beer, saluting Jared before he drank.

"So," Jared grinned. "Local talent, huh?"

"Yeah," Jason smiled. "It's fun. We have a good time. Everybody else seems to like it, too, so I hope it's not a hardship for you to sit through the show."

He cocked a mock-worried look at Jared, who promised solemnly, "I'll make the sacrifice, and stay till the end."

"Damn straight. See that you do. Hey, have you eaten? You know the food here's pretty damn good."

Jared looked up behind the bar at a menu hand-lettered on the wall. "What do you recommend?"

"All of it, man. Steve's a fantastic cook--he came up with most of the recipes. Try anything. I guarantee you'll like it."

Jared wound up ordering a sample platter, which, when it came, contained a couple of sliders, a basket of herbed potato wedges, marinated grilled chicken tenders, and roasted kale chips. He took a bite of a slider, and his eyebrows went up. There was avocado, and shredded lettuce and shaved ginger dressed with--horseradish? Or wasabi? He took a sip of his beer and savored the combination of flavors.

Jason was grinning beside him. "Good, huh?"

"Really good!" Jared polished off the slider and reached for the kale chips.

"Hey," Jason finished his beer. "I've got to go. But I'll get a round after the show, okay?"

Jared nodded, happily employed with his dinner. "Sure. Uh, break a leg."

Jason's head went back on a shout of laughter, and he headed toward the pool table, speaking to the group gathered around it. In a few minutes, the winner, Jason, and a couple of other guys headed for the stage. Each of them retrieved an instrument from one of the guitar stands already on stage. They checked their connections to the amps, did a quick sound check, and they were ready to go.

Jared didn't at first recognize the man who stepped up to the mike, concentrating on tightening a guitar string by tiny increments. His loose brown hair hung around his face, and was long enough to just brush his shoulders. It wasn't until he turned in profile to speak to another band member that Jared recognized him as the chef from Kane's.

Jason was at another mike, speaking to the black guy who had a bass guitar slung on a strap over his shoulder. The pool game winner was on guitar, as well, and there was another man, with blond curls that swept his shoulders, holding an acoustic guitar that had been modified with an electric pickup.

He started noodling something on his guitar, and each of the other players joined in. The blond hummed a melody into his mike, and each of the others began to hum, too. The melody became a harmony, the volume increased, the bass became an insistent beat, and the room lit up with the energy the band was throwing off, now.

Jared's foot was tapping, and he looked over the room, only now realizing the house lights had dimmed a little. But there was plenty of light to check on the crowd, and assess the overall mood. Everybody seemed attentive, into the music, smiling and nodding at the clever lyrics, and humming along. Apparently the band was known, here at Ferris', well enough for patrons to have learned the songs, most of which, Jared realized after several numbers, were original, rather than the expected covers. He wondered who the songwriter was, as the blond and the pool game winner harmonized on a soft and heartfelt tale of heartbreak and longed-for redemption. As the last sweet notes died away, the audience stamped and whistled their approval, and the chef and the bassist swung into a hard-driving hillbilly-rock song about truck-drivin' and hard-hearted women.

The band played the audience well, interspersing rollicking feel-good songs with a heavy beat that people were dancing to, in a space clear of tables in front of the stage, with less-frequent slower, sadder tales that left the listener with a sense of unrequited longing. Or something, Jared snorted to himself in self-mockery, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in what he hoped was well-disguised embarrassment. In between paying attention to the group onstage, he kept breaking off for his glance to rove over the crowd, searching for the first signs of trouble. He wasn't on duty, but by now it was sort of an ingrained habit. But each time his gaze wandered, his attention was soon drawn back to the performers, and how well they worked together, how much fun they seemed to be having, doing something they loved and were obviously good at. 

His empty mug was whisked away, and a full one, condensation misting the glass, was set at his elbow. He looked up to see Sam smiling at the band.

"Pretty good, aren't they?" he asked, saluting her with his first sip.

"Yeah, for hometown boys, they do all right," she grinned, obviously playing down her pride in them. She cocked an eyebrow. "Thanks for," she made a small gesture indicating the whole room. "You know. We don't usually have any problems, but there's always that one guy. Or guys."

"I'm not on duty," Jared protested.

"Hon, I live with a cop. You're never off-duty." She gave him a sharp-eyed look, and then smiled, before she moved off to serve another customer.

Jared noted that the chef drove most of the heavy-rock songs, with the blond fronting the rest. Jason and the bassist and the pool game winner mostly backed them up. But Jason and the pool guy--this would be so much easier if he had names, Jared thought--sang a couple of laid-back, gentle duets, Jason singing lead and the other guy close harmony. They sounded good together. The bassist and the blond, and even the chef, sang soft backup. It was nice. And then the next couple of numbers were hard rocking.

The chef laid his guitar down, though, and grabbed the mike with both hands like he was going to kiss it, and sang a heartfelt tale of aching grief and regret. His voice held a ragged edge of barely holding back tears, and the blond's quiet but edgy harmony only emphasized the pathos of the song. Jared was a bit surprised to feel his own eyes well up a bit; he had to blink to clear them.

After the last longing notes died away, the bassist hit a hard, driving rhythm, and the audience knew that beat, because feet were stamping and hands were clapping all over the room. Each of the guys onstage slung their guitars and went to work, and their voices met and parted in counterpoint and remixed in harmony and a giddy, relentless ride to the last, echoing chord.

"Thank you and good night!" the chef hollered into the room, completely disregarding the mike. A hearty chorus of yells, applause, and whistles answered him back. Somebody cranked the jukebox, a song that replicated the beat of that last number, close enough, and the good mood rolled on. Jared noticed a waitress with beers on a tray at the edge of the stage handing each mug off, one by one, to the band. And things slowly settled down to background jukebox music and the babble and hum of conversation.

* * *


	2. Not all Cats are Grey in the Dark

* * *

Jared glanced at his watch, and was surprised to realize two hours had passed. Time flies, he grinned wryly, picking up his beer to finish and get ready to leave, when Jason was suddenly at his side, slapping him on the back. Jared turned and met his broad, happy grin. "Hey man!" Jason greeted him. "So, what'd you think?"

Jared couldn't help answering with his own wide smile. "Dude, you guys are awesome! What are you doing here in a small-town bar? You ought to be doing this for a living!"

Jason grinned, but shook his head. "Nah, man. This is just for fun." He clapped a hand on Jared's shoulder and inclined his head toward the table by the stage where the band was gathered, kicking back over their beers. "Hey, come meet the guys."

Jared pulled back a little, and shook his head. "No, hey, you just go on and have a good time with your friends, there. I'm about to pack it in and head home."

"Back to your lonely motel room, you mean?" Jason scoffed. "That's no fun. Come on," he insisted. "Come have a drink with the band. You need to meet some people."

Jared cast a look at the men gathered around the table, laughing and talking. He wasn't sure he'd be welcome. "They look like they're having a good time, Jason. I don't want to intrude."

"Would you stop? It's not intruding if you've been invited. Pick up your beer and get your ass in gear. Come meet the band." Jason's hand on his shoulder all but pushed him the length of the room, until he was standing beside the band's table. They all looked up at him, and Jason did the introductions. "Guys, this is Jared, our new deputy, coming to us from the big city LA Pee Dee."

"Hi guys, nice set," Jared smiled.

"Chris, Adrian, Jensen, and Steve," Jason mentioned each man's name as Jared shook hands. "Adrian's a deputy, too. You guys'll probably be patrolling together some."

"Hey," Jared nodded. "Nice to meet you." Steve was the one with curly blond hair to his shoulders, Jensen was the winner of the pool game, and Chris was the chef.

"Pull up a chair, son," Chris said, blue eyes twinkling. "I remember you. You were at the cafe the other night."

Jared nodded. "I sure was. Man, that was some meal."

"Oh, don't," Jensen mock-grimaced. "His head is big enough as it is."

Chris punched him in the shoulder. "Philistine. You don't appreciate food." Jensen just laughed.

"What do you do, Jensen?" Jared wondered.

"CPA. Tax work, boring, ordinary accounting stuff." He grinned.

"Yeah," Adrian chuckled. "This is how he gets his freak on, though. Right Jensen? Playing wild man with the band."

"Oh, now Jensen never gets too wild." The guitarist with the long blond hair brought a round of beer, long-necked bottles tucked between his fingers, and handed them out around the table.

"Steve, right?" Jared accepted the one offered to him. "Jason mentioned you cook for the bar?"

Steve nodded, blond curls stirring at the movement. "Yeah, sometimes. Mostly I just play around with different things until I like the result, and then post the recipes where the regular kitchen staff can follow them. And try to get Sam to make them actually follow the recipes, at least some of the time." Steve turned a chair back to front and straddled it, knocking the back of Chris' chair as he did so, and then he asked Jared, "What'd you think?"

"Man, I never had bar food that good," Jared grinned reminiscently. What did you put on those sliders? They were awesome."

Adrian groaned. "Stop, dude, stop. You're just gonna get both of those two cranked up over food wars again!"

Jensen chuckled, sipping on his beer and side-eyeing first Steve and then Chris. Jason watched them both solemnly and then turned to Jared. "It's an ongoing argument--who's the best cook." He took a swig of beer and nodded sagely.

"Chef," Chris corrected, and Steve nodded agreement.

"Yeah, man. Food's important."

He exchanged a grin with Chris, who then added, "But Steve's real job is repairing and restoring case instruments--violins, guitars. And he builds new ones."

"I'm a luthier," Steve agreed.

"When the two of them aren't writing songs," Jason said.

"Oh, you're one to talk," Jensen chimed in, looking directly at Jared. "Jason writes songs, too, don't let him tell you different."

Jason kicked playfully at Jensen's boot, where his leg was crossed over the other knee. "Like you don't," the deputy said.

Jared turned to Adrian. "And do you write music, too?"

Adrian shouted a laugh, and the rest of them joined in. "Naw, man. I just play bass and sing backup." The conversation turned to something else. "Have you met Jeff?" Adrian wanted to know.

Jared nodded. "I got into town on Wednesday, and I met him then. That's when Jason and I met, too. Jeff seems like a pretty nice guy." Jared couldn't deny he was fishing a little, trying to get some information on his boss, to know him better before he started, and maybe did something by accident to put him on Jeff's bad side.

"Yeah, Jeff's fair, but he's tough when he has to be."

"Not so tough when it comes to Sam," Jason said.

Jared looked around the table, seeking clarification. "What does that mean?"

"Oh," Steve said. "Sam's his wife. And she does a pretty good job of keeping him in line." He ducked as a hand swatted across the back of his head.

"I heard that," Sam said, a tray of fresh bottles in her hand. She picked up empties and handed out the fresh round. And though Steve cringed, just a little, when she grinned at him, nothing else was said. Sam patted Steve on the shoulder before she moved off with her tray of empties to pick up a few more on her way back to the bar.

"Ah." Sam's comment about living with a cop made sense, now. "That must come in handy, keeping the peace in here."

"Nah," Chris offered. "Not really. I mean, people knowing the owner's husband is the sheriff might help keep the rowdiness down, some. But it's not like Sam needs the department's help with that."

"Right," Adrian agreed. "She's pretty tough, all on her own."

"She runs a nice bar," Jared had no trouble admitting that. He took another swallow of his beer, and thought about calling a taxi to get home. He hadn't planned to drink more than one beer tonight. He was a little lost in thought when Jason spoke.

"So, did Lauren find you a house?"

"Oh, are you looking for a house?" Adrian asked. "Cool! Barbecues and house parties, right? Here we come!"

"Now, hold on, son," Chris admonished. "The man's barely set foot in town. We don't want to be imposin' before we're even asked." Christian fixed Jared with a quizzical eye and waited for his response.

Jared took a beat before he grinned. "Mi casa, su casa?" He shrugged before he added, "I guess?"

Chris rocked back in his chair and laughed, and the rest of them laughed along with him. "Naw, man. We'll let you get settled in, at least. Did you decide on a place, yet?"

"Well, I've only seen three or four houses," Jared told them. "A couple of them were just--in neighborhoods full of minivans and kids, and I don't know if that's me." He glanced around the table, but all of them seemed to understand what he meant. A couple of them nodded understanding. "We're going to look at a couple more places tomorrow. But there was this one place..."

"Where is it?" Jensen prodded, since Jared left his sentence unfinished.

"Oh, out on Larch Lane?" he replied. "It's back off the street, and there's more landscaping than I'm used to. But I think I like it."

"The old Vernon place?" Adrian asked. "I've never been inside the house, but from the outside it looks pretty cool."

Jared nodded, and took another swallow of beer. "It's glass and wood and stone," he offered. "I grew up in the suburbs, and I was just expecting another split level or rambler. This one's different. Open, but not huge."

"Sounds nice," Jason offered. "You gonna need help moving in?"

"Well, like I said, there's more houses to look at tomorrow, but I'm thinking they're going to have to be something special to beat the--what did you call it? The Vernon house?"

"Yeah," Chris nodded. "The guy who built it was an engineer or something. He traveled a lot. But he designed the house, and the landscaping, and he kept it up himself."

"He died a while back," Steve added. "I'd have thought the estate would try to sell that house, rather than rent. But if you like it, then I hope you get it. Like Jason said, you need help moving in?"

"Maybe in a few weeks," Jared replied. "I stored some stuff at my parents'. But I'm going to have to go furniture shopping. I didn't keep--" He took a quick swallow of beer to cover the hitch in his voice. "I don't have anything. I need to start from beds and tables and chairs."

A grin broke across Jensen's face. "You need to go see Beth," he said, and Chris nodded agreement.

"Who's Beth?" Jared looked from one face to the other.

"She runs a store just off Main." Jason was the first to answer. "Furniture, lamps, dishes, pots and pans, all that stuff."

"Plus some art, and even clothing. You know, antique, and vintage stuff." Jensen added.

"I'm pretty sure antiques are beyond my budget," Jared admitted.

"Oh, she does stock some antiques," Chris said. "And she also does searches for people who want a piece in a certain style. Sometimes one of the auction houses in the city asks her to keep an eye open for certain pieces. But a lot of what she has is vintage or newer, just used or secondhand. She can help you furnish your place, and for a lot less than new stuff."

"And I guarantee," Jensen added. "It'll look and feel a whole lot more like your space than if you buy a whole furniture store showroom and bring it home." He got up to bring another round of beer.

A murmur of agreement went around the table. Adrian opened his bottle and said, "And when you've picked out your stuff, you have all of us to help you bring it home and set it up." He lifted his beer to Jared, and the other guys followed suit.

"Well, thanks." Jared was a little surprised, and somewhat overwhelmed. It was kind of early, in his experience, to be adopted by folks in a new town. It must have been the beer making everybody so friendly. He grinned a little at his explanation. It was far too soon to be accepted this easily into a ready-made group of friends. Wasn't it?

* * *

Neither of the houses Lauren showed him Sunday afternoon appealed as much as the Vernon house, and she smiled as if she'd expected it when he told her he wanted it.

"I do know that the estate would eventually like to sell it," she said, pulling up at the curb in front of her office. "But they'll be sure to give me lots of advance notice before they put it on the market." She slanted a birdlike glance up at him from under her bangs. "Who knows? If you decide to settle here, you might just want to buy it yourself."

At his blank expression of surprise, and possibly a little dismay--he hadn't given a thought to owning property, after all--she smiled. "But that's well in the future. For now, we'll just set up the rental, and let you get moved in."

On the sidewalk, he asked, "How long will that take? I mean, how soon will I be able to move in?"

"I can imagine you're getting a little tired of the motel," she sympathized. "Stop by the office tomorrow afternoon, and we'll get the papers signed, do a credit check, all that stuff. It shouldn't take long. And if everything's okay--and I don't know any reason why it wouldn't be--you should have the keys by Friday. Maybe sooner," she promised, holding out a hand. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Jared shook hands, and thanked her. Since he had no other plans, he headed for his truck, parked a couple of spaces away. But he really wasn't ready to go back to his motel room, he realized. He didn't want to spend the evening alone. For lack of anything better to do, he walked down the sidewalk, glancing into shop windows. Most were closed on a Sunday evening, but the card shop and a couple of clothing and shoe stores were open, as well as a bright-lit pharmacy. All the stores had customers; evidently late weekend shopping must make it worthwhile for the stores to be open on Sunday night. He turned a couple of corners, just exploring the town, and doing a little window shopping along the side streets. He came to a stop before a broad stretch of square-paned windows, above which gold painted letters across the front of the store spelled "Gallimaufry". A hand-painted sign swung from a curly iron bracket above the door, the name of the shop repeated in cursive script.

He peered through the glass at the dimly lit vignettes. In one window was a small writing desk of well polished wood, the kind that had pigeonholes and tiny drawers, and a pull out surface for writing. There was a flowered china inkwell and a matching pen tray on the desk, with a leather-bound book, weighted open with a large round brass-framed magnifying glass. A feather quill shared a china mug with vintage fountain pens, and a silver letter opener shaped like a sword, with ornate engraving on the blade, lay on top of a couple of opened envelopes with foreign-looking stamps, and folded pages spilling out of the envelopes. A delicate wooden chair with some sort of needlework seat was drawn up to the desk. The scene looked like a room from a century ago, possibly even earlier. The furniture looked authentic, from what little Jared knew. It was an entire scene, like a stage set. Jared smiled at the care and detail of the arrangement, and gave his attention to the next window.

The scene had an Oriental type rug on the floor, in shades of red, tan, blue, and black. There was a wingback chair, covered in some tapestry-like fabric, with a woven coverlet draped casually over the chair back. A tooled leather hassock offered a place for tired feet, and a table beside the chair was set with a silver tray, on which was a cut crystal decanter and a delicate stemmed glass. Another leather-bound book was laid open over the arm of the chair, as though the reader had only just stepped away for a moment. Jared smiled to himself; he wouldn't have been surprised to see a calabash pipe in an ashtray on the table, with smoke curling upward. This scene looked like a corner of the sitting room from the old PBS Sherlock Holmes series.

But it was the third window that attracted Jared. A chair crafted of smooth, dark wood, with leather cushions, and a footstool obviously made to match it, sat on a rug woven with a geometric design. The chair looked ample, even for Jared's six-foot-five, and very comfortable. The polished dark surface of a simple, sturdy table gleamed in the downlight of a lamp with a heavy bronze base and a wide umbrella of a glass shade. The shade was painted with some sort of woodland scene that glowed from the light within. That was the sort of thing he would like for his living room, Jared thought. Not that he could ever afford it, but it was a place to start. He suspected this shop was the one that Jason and Chris had mentioned, Beth's place. He peered past the window furnishings into the gloom of the shop, the interior lit only with a couple of weak fluorescents along the back wall. There were rolling racks full of hanging clothes, and bookshelves full of books. It looked like the kind of place he might spend hours in, just for the books alone. He made a note of the shop's location, because he definitely planned to come back when it was open, and explore inside.

He wandered on, and rounding another corner, back now on Main, he saw that Kane's Cafe was open too, on a Sunday night. His stomach rumbled--and he grinned a little at the Pavlovian response--and headed for the blue door.

He saw Jensen as soon as he stepped inside, seated in the same booth as before. He was sitting by himself tonight, and he looked up as Jared walked in, and waved Jared over.

"Hey. Good to see you again."

"Hey Jensen, good to see you too." Jared smiled and turned to follow the hostess to an empty table.

"Hey, Lanie," Jensen spoke to her. "Why don't you bring us another setting, and Jared will join us? That okay with you, Jared?"

Jared blinked. There were two empty places set, but there was room for another. "I don't want to intrude--"

"Nah, no such thing. You need to meet more people. Have a seat," Jensen urged, and Jared slid into the booth facing Jensen. Lanie was back in moments with a roll of flatware, a water glass, and a pitcher of ice water. "Are you guys ready to order?" she asked, filling their glasses.

"Give us a little time, would you? Aldis and Beth are coming."

"Sure thing, hon," she smiled, and moved away to check on diners at other tables.

"Aldis and Beth?" Jared asked.

"Friends of mine. Chris'...um, significant others," Jensen said, with a little grin. "Do they still say 'significant other'?"

Jared took a beat before answering. "I...guess? You mean, he's...with both of them...?" He left the question dangling, sipping at his water to cover his awkwardness. He didn't know which questions to ask, and what subjects to leave alone.

"Yeah. They're together. It seems to work." Jensen smiled broadly, and glanced around the restaurant. "They should be here soon. Aldis had a late shift, and Beth was going to run by the hospital and pick him up."

"Hospital?" Jared picked up the menu, and glanced at the entrees.

"Aldis is a trauma doctor, he works in the ER." The door opened, to admit the tall black man and the blonde woman Jensen had been sitting with the last time Jared was at Kane's. Jensen smiled in greeting. "Here they are."

They came straight to the booth, and Jensen said, "Hello, beautiful," as Beth leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before settling on the bench next to Jared.

"Don't I get a hello?" Aldis asked, sliding in next to Jensen, and sending a glance across the table at Jared.

"Of course you do, gorgeous," Jensen offered up a cheek to be kissed, playing up the compliment with a grin. "What's going on with you guys? Everything okay?"

Beth smiled, and Aldis nodded. "More or less," he said. He seemed tired, but his smile broadened to include Jared. "Who do we have here?"

"This is Jared," Jensen introduced him. "Be nice. He's Jeff's new deputy."

"Do we have to be nice?" Beth snuggled up against Jared, linking her arm through his, and batting her eyes at him. "What if we don't like him? Can we be mean, if we don't like him?"

"Well," Jensen said, grinning at her. "Chris likes him. So, maybe you can judge by that."

"Oh," Aldis spoke up. "Chris likes him, huh? Like that's a ringing endorsement."

"Does he talk?" Beth made wide eyes at Jensen, before she turned back to Jared and pinched his arm.

"Ow!" Jared jumped, more in surprise than the pain of the pinch.

"He does talk!" Beth gloated. "Tell us about yourself, Jared."

"What are you guys gonna order tonight?" Chris was standing by the end of the table, grinning at Beth and Jared. "Don't let her walk all over you, son. You're a big boy, stand up for yourself."

"Hey, Chris," Jared smiled, a little in relief. "What's good tonight?"

"Oh, now you've done it," Aldis said, raising his hands and shaking his head in mock consternation. He mouthed along with the words coming out of Chris' mouth--all three of the friends did.

"What are you talking about, 'what's good?' It's all good! I don't make stuff that ain't good!"

"Right, right," Jared hurried to say. "I apologize for impugning your kitchen. How about, 'what would you recommend?'"

There was more teasing and trash talk, with Jared in the middle of it and gradually relaxing enough to give as good as he got. He liked these people, and he liked the way they were with each other, and how easily they made room for him in their circle. Maybe, he smiled to himself, watching Aldis reach across the table to thumb a fleck of salad dressing off Beth's cheek, Middlebrook was going to be a good change for him, after all.

Dinner came, with wine to accompany it, and everything was consumed with relish and appreciation. When Jared tried to pick up the check, Lanie told him it was already taken care of. They all parted ways on the sidewalk, after Christian walked out with them to see them off, Beth and Aldis headed toward their car. Jensen's car was parked in the same direction as Jared's truck, so the two of them walked together until they reached the car.

"I'm glad you joined us, Jared. We'll have to do it again, sometime soon."

"Thanks for inviting me. It was a good evening." He patted his comfortably full stomach. "And a fantastic meal."

They said their good nights, and Jensen drove off. Jared walked the couple of blocks back to his truck. The storefronts were all dark, now. His was the only vehicle parked along the street. Jared drove back to the motel, smiling to himself over his evening, and new friends, and full of anticipation for his first day on the job tomorrow.

* * *

Jared recognized the numerals on the unit as it rolled up to the scene, and he was across the grass and pulling Raul into his arms almost before Travis had the unit in park. He wound his arms tight around his husband, and felt Raul's holding him just as tight. Raul looked up, his eyes bright, his smile wide, and took a breath to say something clever.

"Gun!" someone shouted, a half-second before the shattering sound of the shot. Jared's eyes went wide as he scanned the scene for the shooter. Raul's expression was one of surprise.

"What--? JT?" his voice was a little ragged, and Jared glanced down at him in concern, as his arms were taxed with more and more of Raul's weight. Jared staggered, realizing Raul's legs weren't holding him up any more.

"Raul? Baby, what--?" The expression of pain and sorrow on his husband's face finally made sense.

"Raul! No!" Jared bolted upright in his bed, eyes streaming tears, arms aching from a burden snatched from him, unwilling. He buried his face in his hands, and didn't even try to stop the storm of tears. He fell back into the pillows, and let himself sob until he slept.

* * *

Broken sleep meant Jared had an extra cup of coffee and pretended to have more energy than he felt on his first day as a Middlebrook Sheriff's deputy. The day involved meeting his fellow deputies and the department staff, paperwork, getting fitted for uniforms, paperwork, qualifying with regulation firearms, and yet more paperwork. He sat at the desk temporarily assigned him and answered questions about his health and prior insurance claims on his new health insurance policy.

He met deputies Danay Garcia and Caroline Chikezie, both with a no-nonsense air about them. Caroline went with Jared to the gun range and fired some rounds, just for practice. She was a better shot than him, with her service revolver.

Jake Abel was the last deputy Jared met, coming on duty as Jared and Caroline got back from the firing range. Jared hoped Jake just appeared young for his age, because he looked barely out of his teens. He was lean and moved well, in good physical shape, and he looked Jared over, practiced, despite his apparent youth, in sizing people up. "Glad to meet you, Jared," he shook hands. "Next time we get a drunk and disorderly call about Reuben," he grinned. "We'll let you go in first."

Everybody within hearing chuckled, and Caroline let Jared in on the joke. "Reuben's the town problem child. He's bigger than your average bear, and he's got a temper." She leaned back and gave Jared a frank once-over. "I think you could take him."

"Well, thanks," Jared laughed. "I may call for backup, though."

"Anytime, honey," Danay raised her eyebrows, flirting way over the top.

"Jared," Jeff's voice caught all their attention. "How're you settling in? Getting to know everybody?"

Before Jared could answer, Jeff went on. "Danay, you behave. Don't go scaring the boy right off the bat."

The deputy batted her lashes at Jared, and turned to mock-pout at Jeff. "He's too big for little old me to scare." She scooped up a set of car keys from her desk, and walked past Jared, giving him a pat on the arm. "Besides, I have to go patrol now. I'll see you later, guys."

Jeff grinned as she walked away. "And don't go drag-racing that cruiser!" he told her.

She snorted, "As if!" as the glass door swung shut behind her.

Jeff brought Jared into his office and gave him a little background on each of the other deputies, went over the schedule he'd be on for the first couple of weeks, what his duties were, things Jeff wanted him to pay particular attention to. He suggested they go get lunch, and as they walked outside, Jeff paused by an SUV with the department's paint job and logo.

"Dude, I think you're too tall to ride all shift in one of the sedans. I'm going to put you in one of these. We're phasing out the cruisers, anyway. These are more practical. It's just a budget issue, buying these and selling off the sedans." Jared nodded, relieved that he'd be using the larger vehicle. He knew from experience that shifts in the sedans often were uncomfortable for someone of his height. They walked down to a sandwich shop. Jeff introduced him to Christie Laing, the owner, when they ordered, and they went to the park again and sat on a bench to eat.

The afternoon was spent filling out more paperwork, and after Jared handed the last of it, at least for today, to Merrilyn, the office manager, he knocked on Jeff's door. "Anything else I need to be doing this afternoon? If not, I need to go sign some papers on my house."

Jeff glanced at his wristwatch, and stretched his arms back over his head. "Naw, Jared. I think you're done for today." He dropped his arms and smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Jared tossed a goodbye at Caroline and Jake and Merrilyn as he walked toward the doors. In the vestibule, he ran into Jason and Adrian, just coming on duty.

"So, how'd your first day go?" Adrian asked.

Jared worked the fingers of his right hand. "I didn't die of writer's cramp," he grinned. "But it was a near thing."

The guys laughed as they turned to go down to the locker room, and Jared crossed the street to Lauren's office to make his rental official.

Jared rode with each of the other deputies, and even some days with Jeff, learning the town, and the people, and the simmering feuds, generations-old arguments over property lines, easements, rights of way, or a thwarted love when a great-aunt married someone other than her intended. Such things were history, Jared knew. But they colored the present too, possibly more in a small community than in a larger city, and the long-held resentments easily kindled acts of spite and revenge. Every community had such history, and it was prudent for law enforcement to be aware of it, so the individuals involved could be counted, or eliminated, when somebody broke the law.

He met some of the brighter lights of the community, the new pastor, Ben Martin, of the local church, and Denalda Williams, who ran the public library. Most people were glad to meet him, and welcomed him to town. He supposed he'd run into the darker, less welcoming crowd as he settled into his job.

He was able to move into the Vernon house on Wednesday after signing the papers, and realized he had nothing to sit on, no bed to sleep in. He hit the camping department of the Home Depot on the outskirts of town and bought a pad and a sleeping bag, and called it home until his first day off.

He made a beeline for Gallimaufry, and the expected bell chimed as he stepped inside. "Hi, Jared!" Beth's blonde ponytail bobbed as she hurried forward to hug him. "It's good to see you."

"You too," Jared grinned. He quickly scanned the interior, taking in the range of items the store offered. "This is a great place."

"Why thank you," she beamed. "Is there something special I can help you find today?"

So he told her about the house. She looked a little puzzled when he said he hadn't brought any furniture at all from his old place, but she sympathized with the lack of chairs, a table, and a bed.

"Let's see what we can find for you!" she chirped, heading toward a back corner of the store.

They prowled through the furniture she had on offer, but after getting an idea of his taste, she made a suggestion.

"Jared, I don't want to seem pushy--I mean, I know I _am_ pushy, I just don't want to seem that way." She grinned at him, dimple in her right cheek. "Would it be okay with you if I saw the space?"

He regarded her somewhat blankly, and she explained.

"I can get a better idea of the size and," she made an expansive gesture with both hands. "The style of pieces that would work, if I saw where they were going to live."

He had some initial difficulty thinking of furniture "living" anywhere, but he had to admit there was some logic to her process. "Sure," he agreed. "Let me offer you lunch at the house." He grinned back at her. "We'll have to eat standing, though. Maybe it will help inspire you."

She stalked around the living room and dining area, armed with a tape measure and an old-fashioned paper pad and pencil.

"Do you plan to paint?" she asked at one point, her attention on a patch of sunlight that was climbing the white-painted wall.

"Uh, no?" Jared answered. "Should I?"

"Oh no, I just wondered. If you ever did, what color do you think..?"

He hadn't ever really given it any thought. "I guess, I've always liked white," he said, finally, and she made a note on her pad.

"Let me buy you ice cream," she offered, having finished with measuring the bedrooms. "And we'll talk."

And that was how Jared came to have simple reproduction Craftsman-styled armchairs and an ottoman with leather cushions, a sofa in a later, but still simple, style, with sturdy tables located conveniently. And a dining table and chairs that looked as though they'd been designed for the space positioned by the glass wall, with a pendant light that he was becoming quite fond of hanging above the table. There were sturdy lamps here and there, inexpensive, but chosen for shape and function. The whole room warmed after dark in the lamplight. There was a console table Beth was holding for him, which would be perfect beside the front door, and a few other pieces he wanted, when he was able to afford them. In the meantime, he'd gone to a bedding store in a strip mall outside the nearest larger town. He spent next to nothing on a plain metal bed frame, putting the money he saved on a quality mattress large enough that he could stretch out and not hang his toes off the bed. The bedroom decor could wait, as could the spare room, as long as he had a comfortable place to sleep.

His next purchases, though, were going to be from the outdoor center at Home Depot--a table and chairs for the deck, and then a grill. He was pleased with the way Beth had put the furniture and decor into place. It felt comfortable, almost as if the house had been waiting for the right furnishings, and as though everything together kind of reflected who he was, or at least, who he wanted to be. It suited him, it fit. It was already starting to feel like home.

He took a deep breath, and called his mom, and arranged for her to ship the rest of his clothes, the books and things he had stored at his parents' house when he moved out of their-- out of the condo in LA.

* * *

People were absolute shits, sometimes. Jared choked back bile and the urge to puke as he and Adrian examined the crime scene. The victim was a seven-year-old brown paint gelding, not that you could tell much about the original coat color, with all the blood. A lot of it had soaked into the ground, where it was scuffed and torn up. Once down, the animal had paddled in agony until death mercifully took it. Jake and Caroline brought out the work lights when Jared called in, and he and Adrian set them up at roughly four points around the scene, to shed as much light as possible. The vet on call for the department stooped, used his flashlight and scribbled notes before he squatted in another place and wrote some more. Caroline used the ME's camera to take photographs as the vet directed, "Get that area above the chest," _flash_ , "and the tears along the neck." _flash_ Doc Beaver stood and beckoned to Jared and Adrian.

"You boys, help me roll 'im."

"What?" Jared faltered.

"I need to check for wounds on the other flank, deputy. I need to have him rolled."

"You got enough photos of the ground, Doc?" Jake asked, and Beaver nodded. "Okay, then." Jake stepped in close, boots right in the bloody, roiled up ground, and put hands on the horse's head. He directed Jared and Adrian to grab the hooves, and with a coordinated heave, they rolled the carcass. They were helped by the fact that rigor had started. But the wounds revealed were enough to sicken a strong man, and Jared had to step aside and get his rebellious stomach under control.

Beaver was swearing a blue streak, even while he pointed at areas he needed Caroline to photograph. He laid a gloved hand on the bloody flank and was still for a minute, before standing and asking Jake and Jared to bring his gear from his van: lidded buckets, stoppered vials in various sizes, giant hypodermic syringes, and heavy duty plastic evidence bags.

"I'm going to take the heart and liver, samples of the stomach and gut, blood, whatever I need, and let this man bury his horse. No need hauling the carcass back to my clinic, when I can take what I need here."

Caroline stood by with the camera, snapping pictures as Beaver collected what he needed. Jake, who seemed to know something about the process, helped hold and position the carcass so Beaver could reach the areas he wanted to sample.

Lightning flashed among the clouds along the horizon, and barely audible thunder rumbled. Jared was grateful they'd be finished here before the storm arrived.

*  *  *

 

On his afternoon off, he was spelunking in the back room at Gallimaufry, looking for a small chest or table to use beside his bed as a nightstand, and a lamp he could read by, in bed. Beth had given him run of the place, and promised to help him look, once she got through a pile of bookkeeping and filing. Sasha, her part-time help, would be in to handle customers, leaving Beth free to help Jared search. He had found a couple of pieces he thought might work, and was coming to ask her about them, when the front door opened, and Jensen walked in carrying two big white bags from the sandwich shop.

"Bethy!" he warbled in a goofy treble. "Lunch is here!" He caught sight of Jared and grinned. "Hey, Jared! I'm sure there's enough here for three. Want to join us?"

And that's how the three of them wound up loading Jared's truck with a selection of small tables and chests, and three different lamps. Jensen prowled through Jared's house, noting the furniture and placement, the colors of the rugs and cushions. He turned to grin at Jared. "Beth's touch is all over this place," he said. "But it all feels exactly like you."

Jared nodded. "She's a genius."

Beth swatted his arm as she left the house with a rejected lamp. "Help me with these other two. And the three-drawer chest."

The small dresser was the best choice, and the old brass lamp with the new silk shade was the perfect height for reading. Mission accomplished, the three of them sprawled around the living room congratulating themselves, before Beth demanded Jared drive her and her furniture back to Gallimaufry. He and Jensen unloaded everything, and Jared let Sasha run his debit card while Jensen kissed Beth's cheek. She reached to hook an arm around Jared's neck and pulled him down for a quick peck on the cheek, too, before disappearing back into her office with the filing.

Jensen walked out with him. "Well, thanks," Jared offered. "For lunch, and for the help with schlepping the stuff out, and the opinions."

Jensen grinned. "Glad to do it. Hey, decorating's a manly pursuit if you're doing it with other guys, right?"

Jared laughed and agreed. He hesitated for a few seconds, and then just came out with what he had been thinking about for a while. "Would you want to, maybe, grab dinner sometime? With me?"

"You asking me out, Jared? On a date?"

"Um, yeah?"

"Sure." The eyes crinkled at the corners with Jensen's smile. "Can we go somewhere besides Kane's?"

* * *

"Hey, Boss?" Danay was standing over Adrian's desk, paging through the photos from the horse killing.

"Yeah?" Jeff regarded her, alerted by the tone of her voice.

She pulled her cell phone from her pocket, and scrolled through the pictures on it, stopping, comparing the ones on screen to the glossies from the folder. She nodded, then held the phone out to the sheriff. "A while back, my neighbors' dog went missing. He wasn't prone to running off, and they looked for him for a few days, even put up reward posters around the neighborhood. The kids trekked all over the area, searching and calling, and about four days after he went missing, they found him."

Jared and Jason moved in behind Jeff to get a glimpse of the screen. "Damn," Jason swore. The others eyed him. "I didn't think to take pictures," he said. "It was just a couple of coyotes people on a couple of different farms ran across. And a cat somebody's dog found in the brush. I figured it was a stray. But they all had the same pattern of wounds..."

"How long ago?" Jeff asked.

"Oh geez, the cat was...a month ago? The first coyote was a few days after that. The other one was...last week."

Jeff nodded somberly. "Working his way up, looks like."

The wounds on the golden retriever were almost identical to the ones on the horse. "We need to contact Northbrook and Iver City, see if they've had any activity like this, recently. Or, not so recent."

Jared nodded, and headed for a phone. This was already ugly. It could get a lot uglier.

* * *

He picked Jensen up at his office address, a corner storefront a block off Main Street, following Jensen's directions into the alley beside the two-story building to a plain, unmarked door. There was a small pushbutton doorbell, and when Jared pushed it, a buzzer sounded to unlock the door. Stairs behind it led up, to a rooftop terrace overlooking a courtyard bounded by buildings. Jared was surprised at the pocket of green here in town. Jensen's apartment door was open, and Jensen called to him from inside. "Just be another minute."

"Take your time," Jared called back, standing at the balcony rail and enjoying the last of the sun and the breeze. "Movie doesn't start for another fifteen minutes."

"Aw," Jensen grinned, teasing as he shut the door behind him. He looked really good in a soft grey sweater over a crisp white dress shirt, and darker grey slacks. "We'll miss all the previews."

Jared nodded. "Quite often one of the highlights of the moviegoing experience," he agreed.

The movie was okay, lots of things blowing up and car chases, a few phrases he thought he might draft into daily use.

"At least it was better than the previews," Jensen teased, as they walked out to Jared's truck.

He had dinner at the house all planned, something simple, and he offered beer or wine with. Jensen chose the wine, and the meal was companionable. Jensen helped him clear the table and load the dishwasher, and they took the last of the wine out onto the deck.

"I'm going to buy you some folding chairs," Jensen said, leaning on the deck railing.

"No, don't," Jared said. "I've got my eye on a set of chairs and table, and a few extra chairs. They're in the budget for next month. And the grill!"

"Oooh, a grill!" Jensen mocked his excitement. "And then, the big housewarming, right?"

"Oh, absolutely," Jared assured him. "Cooking out, with places to sit, must have a party."

Jensen's grin softened, and left his lips barely curved in a slight smile. "I'll come," he said.

Jared took it as an invitation, and moved closer, one hand coming up to cup Jensen's cheek. "Promise?" He bent to touch his lips to Jensen's, and the resultant tingle surprised him. He deepened the kiss, stroking his tongue along the seam, but Jensen drew back, just enough to put a little distance between them.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Jensen hurried to reassure him. "It's nice--very nice. But Jared, I need to tell you something."

A curl of worry stirred in Jared's stomach, but he quelled it. "What?"

Jensen put another step between them, and sipped at the dregs of his wine. He raised his gaze to Jared's, and he looked nervous.

"Whatever it is, Jensen, just say it."

He nodded. "I like you, Jared. I like you a lot."

Jared nodded. "I like you too."

"I know. But it's only fair to tell you... I'm asexual."

The word didn't register for a minute, and then it did. But Jared still wasn't sure what it meant--what Jensen meant.

"You mean, you don't have sex?"

Jensen nodded. "Yeah. That's what it means. I don't--"

Jared stepped away himself, now, putting even more distance between them. He still couldn't look away, though. He needed to understand this.

"Jared, please understand. It's not a choice. I didn't decide to be this way. But I am, and because I like you, and I think you like me, I didn't want us to go on any further, in case you were expecting..."

"Expecting us to wind up in bed?" Baldly was the only way he could say it.

Jensen huffed out a little breath, like a punch. "Yeah."

Jared nodded, and emptied his own wineglass in a gulp. "Okay, then."

* * *


	3. Not all Cats are Grey in the Dark

 

* * *

Jared was surprised to find Chris in the gym at the department. He was, at the moment, beating the living daylights out of the speed bag. Jared watched in fascination as Kane sustained a rhythm over a period of minutes, finally slowing and stopping with a last one-two. He reached for a towel and mopped the sweat off his face.

"Impressive," Jared told him, and he was impressed. At the same time, he kind of wondered what Chris was doing in the department's gym.

"Jeff says it's okay if I use the bags and the showers once in a while." He was apparently a mind reader, as well as a chef and a...punching bag person. Jared didn't know if there was a name for that skill, but he was going to look it up, later, in case he ever needed to use the term.

Chris moved over to the heavy bag and started wailing on it. Jared stepped up to brace it against the force of Kane's punches, taking notes on Chris' form and follow-through. Christian obviously knew his way around a gym. He settled into what he was doing, and Jared just watched, until, minutes later, Chris was finished. He grabbed the towel and swabbed his face again before reaching for a water bottle.

"I hoped I'd see you," Chris said. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about." He grabbed up his sweatshirt, pulling it on and zipping it up. "You want to walk out with me?"

Jared nodded. "Okay, sure," he said. "Just let me grab my jacket."

Once outside on the sidewalk, Jared turned to hear what Chris had to say. The shorter man regarded him from under furrowed brows for a few seconds before he broached his subject.

"I know you're seeing Jensen," he began. And when Jared started to ask what business it was of Chris', he held up a hand. "I know it's not my business, and I know Jensen can take care of himself."

He paused for a minute before continuing. "But I still gotta say this. Jensen's--well, he's a good person. Don't hurt him."

Jared shook his head, trying to find the words to say he would never, but Chris added, "You hurt him and I'll find you."

"What makes you think I ever would?" Jared found his voice.

"Nothing," Chris admitted. "I'm just telling you. Don't."

Jared nodded, slowly. "Okay, then."

Chris nodded too. "As long as we understand each other. Good night, Jared." He walked away, toward a car Jared figured was his.

"Yeah," Jared said to his retreating back. "G'night."

* * *

The paramedic unit and a fire engine were already on scene when Jared arrived. He parked the SUV and went to find out what had happened. The driver of the truck, a young male, had already been moved onto a stretcher. The paramedics were fitting a collar on him, and he had a BP cuff on his arm. There was some blood, and the guy was twisting restlessly on the stretcher, fighting the straps they were just now fastening to keep him still and safe.

Jared walked around the truck, making notes of the damage, of the length of the skid marks, extrapolating angle and speed, before he approached the other driver. A woman in her forties, he guessed, and his estimate was confirmed by her driver license. The passenger door on her Toyota was crumpled, the windshield popped from the bent frame on that side, crumbled in that corner and cracked across its width, and the car had been pushed a distance of several feet by the truck running the stop sign at the intersection.

"Is he going to be all right?" The woman, Patricia McCormack, according to her license, seemed shaken, but her first question was about the injured young man.

"I'm sure they'll take good care of him, ma'am," Jared replied. He looked a little closer at her, and didn't like the greenish shade she was turning. "Are you all right, Ms. McCormack? Let's find you someplace to sit down, and get you looked at."

He caught the eye of a paramedic, and the two of them supported her to the back of the ambulance, and got her to sit down. Jared stood by while the medic checked her vitals and asked her a few questions.

"I think you're probably fine," the paramedic said, flicking a penlight into one eye and then the other. "Your reflexes are all good. You didn't lose consciousness at any point?" He made the last a question, just double checking, and Patricia shook her head.

"No, no I didn't," she insisted.

"Well, we can take you in to the emergency room for observation--"

"No," she shook her head. "I don't feel like anything's wrong. I'm a little shaken up, but otherwise, I feel fine."

"Well, you're probably going to be sore tomorrow," the medic told her. "If you have any symptoms, anything at all, see your doctor, or call the ER. Okay?" He met her eyes, and made her promise.

"Okay, I will. And thank you." She stood then, and moved, so they could load the stretcher with the other driver into the ambulance. In moments it growled away, lights flashing.

The woman looked over at her wrecked vehicle and then up at Jared. "What do I need to do about that? Do I call a tow truck?"

"Yes ma'am," he told her. "You need to have somebody move it off the road. Do you know where you want it taken for repair? Your insurance company's going to need to look it over and assess how much repairs will cost, and whether or not they're going to pay that amount. Or they might just total it and give you the present value toward another car."

She looked a little stunned, and not as if she'd followed his explanation very well, so he tried again. "You need to call your insurance company first. They'll tell you where to have the car towed--they might even arrange to have it towed for you."

She nodded, comprehending that much. She looked around blankly, and then said, "My phone's in my purse--in the car. I need--"

She started toward the vehicle, but Jared stopped her. "Let me, Ms. McCormack. You just wait here."

He started toward her car, when Danay's cruiser pulled up. She rolled down her window to speak to him. "You want me to finish up here, and you go on to the hospital to get the other driver's information?" she asked, after Jared had filled her in on the accident.

"Yeah, sure." He handed the other deputy Ms. McCormack's purse. "You might want to let her sit in the car till her ride gets here," he suggested. "She looks a little rocky."

Danay agreed, and went to speak to the woman, and Jared headed toward the hospital.

The ER was bright, as always, busy, and loud, with the PA system, and families in the waiting area talking, some crying, and rubber shoe soles and gurney wheels squeaking on the floors. He stopped at the nurse's station to find out where his accident patient was, and followed his directions to the bays in the back, where the curtains were pulled closed around one of the beds. He saw Aldis, treating a little girl with an injured arm, on his way back. They nodded in passing, and Aldis returned his attention to his patient.

The doctor with Terry, the driver of the truck, said that he appeared to be in good condition, but they had other tests to run. Jared asked specifically for a blood alcohol test, and pulled out the portable breathalyzer he'd brought in with him. Before any more time passed after the accident, he had Terry blow, and noted the numbers: they were well over the legal limit. Terry was coherent, answering questions, though his speech was a little slurred. Jared made notes. It seemed like a straightforward case of DUI to him. He just hoped Terry's insurance would cover the cost of repairs for Ms. McCormack's car, so her insurance payments didn't go up.

Jared was tapping information into his tablet when the machines that were monitoring Terry all went nuts at once, alarms sounding loudly. In seconds, ER staff were in the room, surrounding Terry's bed, yanking out the headboard and cranking the foot of the bed higher, calling out commands and responses as they worked on him.

Jared, leaning against the wall out of the way, froze. He couldn't catch his breath, and he wheezed, trying to get air into his lungs. A nurse shoved him further out of the way, and Jared stumbled out of the bay, losing his footing and sitting hard on the floor. He couldn't make his legs work, to get back on his feet, and he still wasn't able to breathe.

"Jared!" Aldis was at his side, pulling him up onto his feet, a strong arm guiding him away from the alarms and activity surrounding Raul--no. Not Raul. Surrounding...someone else.

Aldis put Jared in a chair out in the corridor and shoved his head down between his knees, crouching beside him with a hand on his back. "Breathe for me. Come on, Jared. Come on, breathe out, that's right. You can't breathe in if you don't let it out."

Jared listened to Aldis' voice and didn't try to remember how he'd gotten here. He'd remember in a minute, when he got his breath back. Now he just worked on breathing in, and out.

"You good, man?" Aldis's hand was on his shoulder, and he stood up from his crouch, pressing on Jared's shoulder to keep him from raising his head, yet. "You just stay like that for a minute or two, okay?"

Jared nodded. Aldis held a cup of water in front of his face, and Jared took it, sitting up a little to sip at it. Wow. He realized how he must look.

"Really," his voice was a little shaky, but he was feeling better all the time. "Don't try this at home. I'm a trained professional."

Aldis took the chair beside him, looking him over. "You want to tell me what just happened in there?" he asked.

"No," Jared answered. But Aldis deserved the truth. "I'm okay now. I just--" he took another sip of water and gathered his courage.

"I lost somebody, somebody very close to me, my husband. In an ER. There was nothing they could do. Everything just suddenly...took me back there."

Aldis nodded, considering. "I can see how that could happen. How are you feeling now?"

"Like I made an exhibition of myself for no reason," Jared confessed, somewhat sheepish.

"Man," Aldis protested his assessment. "PTSD isn't 'no reason'. You had plenty of reason. How long--"

"A year. One year, four months, and twenty-five days."

"That's rough," Aldis said. "I'm really sorry, man."

Jared nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." He took a deep breath, now that he could, and remembered his reason for being here. "How's Terry?"

"Touch and go," Aldis told him. "He may have a bleed in the brain. They're taking him for pictures, and depending on what they show, he may be headed to surgery."

"So I'm not going to get any more out of him tonight." When Aldis shook his head to confirm the negative, Jared stood. He only swayed for a second or two. "Then I think I'm gonna get out of here."

Aldis stood too, and shook the hand Jared offered. "Thanks, man. I thought I was dying, there for a few seconds."

"Has this happened before?"

Jared shook his head.

"Well, if it happens again, you might want to see somebody. There's medication for panic attacks, which is what this was."

Jared nodded. "Okay, I'll keep that in mind. Listen, thanks again."

"Sure thing," Aldis answered.

Jared left, and drove back to the department, carefully, focusing on his driving. His shift was over, but he still had an accident report to write.

* * *

Adrian and Jake were as good as their word. They showed up within a few minutes after the freight truck pulled up to the curb, wearing civvies, and with a borrowed hand truck. The driver offloaded Jared's crates and boxes with the truck's hydraulic lift, and Jake and Adrian dollied them into the house. Adrian even produced a short crowbar and a claw hammer and made short work of getting the crates open.

Jared stacked the books and DVDs in front of the living room bookcases, piled the clothes on his bed, and Jake put his desk together in the spare room while he and Adrian got the flatscreen, DVR and gaming system set up in the living room. The few framed pictures and posters he left leaning against the wall, to hang later.

When there wasn't anything left to do but hang and fold clothes and put them away, and organize the books, and the games and movies onto the shelves, they were quick to accept his offered, "Tell you what. Go with me to pick up the grill and the deck furniture and help set it up, and I'll buy pizza and beer."

Two hours later, the Vernon house had started to feel even more like home. Empty pizza boxes littered the new patio table, and the guys were all lounged out in the chairs, Jared and Adrian sipping their beers.

Jake was drinking soda. "I hate to cut this short," he drained the can and set it down. "But I'm on duty in thirty minutes."

Jared nodded, and stood, reaching to shake Jake's hand, and Adrian's. "Thank you, guys. This went a lot faster with the three of us than just me by myself."

"Glad to do it, man," Adrian grinned.

"Yeah," Jake nodded. "Let us know when the party is."

Jared laughed. "You bet."

"Come on." Jake shoved Adrian's shoulder. "I'll drop you off on my way in."

Jared announced the housewarming party for the next Saturday. He set the hours early enough that deputies on night shift could drop by early for a meal, and those on day shift could come after, and stay into the evening. He'd asked Beth to come early, and help advise him on where to hang his framed art, and her eyes sparkled at the notion. Aldis was on call that evening, but he was coming, and Chris was turning the cafe over to Peggy, his second in the kitchen for the evening.

"Do her good," he said. "She needs the confidence."

Steve had agreed to prepare the food. Something simple, Jared suggested. Finger food, but filling. He took Steve's list and stocked up on groceries.

Even with furniture inside and out, Jared wanted to make sure everybody had a place to sit, if they wanted, and asked to borrow folding chairs from the department.

"Don't need them very often," Jeff said. "When we do, we borrow them from the church. Talk to Pastor Martin," he suggested. And that's what Jared did, on Thursday.

"I can pick them up Friday night, or Saturday morning, whichever would work for you," he told the affable-looking man in the clerical collar. "And I'd bring them back Sunday afternoon. Earlier, if you need them Sunday morning, Pastor Martin."

"It's just Ben," the pastor said. "And Sunday afternoon will be fine. We have chairs in all the classrooms for Sunday School. The folding chairs are extra, for special events, when more people turn out."

Ben helped load the two dozen chairs in Jared's truck, and shook his hand when Jared tried to thank him again. "You're welcome to come by, Pastor--Ben. There'll be lots of food."

The pastor smiled, though he didn't look especially interested. "I may do that. Thank you."

He'd been granted all day Saturday off, so Jared figured it was only fair his Friday was spent behind a construction sign down on the highway outside of town, pointing a radar gun at vehicles passing by. Possibly the most boring duty ever, unless some numbskull blew by well over the limit, and then refused to stop when Jared pulled in behind the vehicle, hit the light bar and goosed the siren. No such luck that day, though. Everybody was boringly law-abiding, and he climbed out of the SUV when his shift was over, stretching and thanking Jeff that he hadn't spent it in a cramped sedan.

Jason had followed up on a report of a calf-killing, and had taken pictures of the carcass. Comparing it with photos from the other cases indicated this was just coyotes, or possibly dogs. "You get three or four strays running together, and that could become a problem," Jeff mused. "You and Caroline take a look out there, talk to some people in the area, and see if there's been any other stock killed or injured. Or if anybody's seen strange strays hanging around."

"Boss," Caroline objected. "Wouldn't that be animal control's area?"

Jeff nodded. He could see where his deputies would believe animal cases weren't their problem. "Ordinarily, yeah. But I think it's wise to take a look at anything that might shed some light on this case." He met her gaze directly, and after a second or two, she nodded.

"Yes, boss."

*  *  *

Steve and his pretty wife arrived at 1:30, bringing a deep fryer and a roll of knives and other arcane vessels and instruments. They started an assembly line for chopping and slicing, laying out ingredients in an order entirely logical to them, and stirring things on Jared's stove that smelled wonderful. Steve pulled the cover off the grill, exploring the controls and muttering and nodding to himself, before heading back into the kitchen. Jared watched the two of them for a while, his offer of help refused with preoccupied half smiles, before his doorbell rang to announce Beth. She was sparkling with eagerness to see what art he had to hang, and he fetched out the shiny new hammer he'd bought when he picked up the patio set, and the little plastic tubs of different-sized nails.

"Oh, yes," her ponytail bobbed as she nodded. "These should do fine. Now," she rubbed her hands together. "What have you got?"

When they had finished, the place really did feel more like home. The black and white Ansel Adams poster in its black frame balanced the flatscreen well. And the vertical art poster in mustard yellows and crimsons and lime-to-olive greens grounded the foyer in a way he never would have thought of, on his own. Not everything got hung, and he leaned the rest against the wall in the spare room. But what was on the walls looked amazing, to his eye. And Beth seemed pleased.

She went out to her red SUV and returned with a small hassock, about eighteen inches tall and round, covered in sewn together patches of leather, some tooled, some embroidered, in varied shades of chocolate, crimson, dark green, and tan. "I brought you a housewarming gift," she beamed, plopping it down next to the bookshelves. "And I get to be the first one to use it. Bring me a glass of wine, would you?"

Jared kissed her cheek in thanks, left her exploring the two bottom shelves of the bookcases, and went off to get her a glass of wine. Jake and Danay were the next to arrive, in uniform, since they were on duty that evening. Jared gave them a brief tour of the house, and saw they had plates in their hands before he went to answer the bell again. Even with the range hood going, the kitchen was heating up. Steve, when Jared asked if he would like the front door open to create a breeze, said "Please." So Jared propped open the door with a chunk of rock he'd found in the desert some years back. The house started to fill up with faces that were becoming more familiar to him.

Jason arrived with a pretty blonde wife, and Adrian had someone with him Jared had met before. "Christie, right?" Jared kissed her cheek. "You make the best sandwiches in town! What are you doing with this guy?" She blushed, and Adrian waggled his eyebrows.

They moved off and Jared was distracted when Sam and Jeff showed up together. "I have to run in a bit, hon," Sam told him. "The bar still opens at five. But we wanted to come see the place, and welcome you to town."

"I don't have anywhere else to be," Jeff rumbled. "I plan to stay and be a wet blanket on the proceedings." Sam swatted him across the midsection, and Jared grinned.

"Always welcome, _sir._ "

Jeff cackled. "Nah, I just wanted to drop by with the missus, for neighborly's sake."

Jared wasn't sure he'd met everybody, but people did seem to be having a good time. He noticed Caroline, talking with Denalda Williams and her husband, and went over to say hi.

"Are you here alone?" he asked, not believing such a beautiful woman didn't have someone who appreciated her.

"My husband's in Afghanistan," she told him, her smile a little sad. "His tour's up in a couple of months." She grinned. "And then, we're going to renegotiate his staying in the army as a career."

Chris and Aldis arrived, and Jensen with them. Aldis waved and smiled, and made a beeline to Beth's hassock. Chris snagged Jared by the arm and pushed him toward the kitchen. "So, how's the food?" he demanded.

Before Jared could answer, Steve shot back,"The food's fine, asshole. Try it if you don't believe me." He shoved a bite of something into Chris' mouth, and he chewed, his eyebrows going up in appreciation. "Not bad, son," he scooted around the bar into the kitchen proper, the two men already discussing prep and presentation. Jensen just laughed and pulled Jared out onto the deck.

Dusk had fallen, and somebody had lit the glass jar candles Jared had set out on the table and the deck railing. People had discovered the folding chairs, and taken some of them out into the back yard, setting up in small groups, with a candle or two for illumination. Somewhere along the way, someone found Jared's music, and soft jazz played through the speakers.

"Nice party, Jared," Jensen joined him at the deck rail, standing close enough for their shoulders to brush. When Jared looked at him he was smiling back.

A few hours later, people began drifting away. The party was breaking up. Everybody seemed to have had a good time, thanked him for having them. Several of them stopped by the kitchen to thank Steve and Marisol for the food. The two of them were washing up and packing the tools and utensils they'd brought with them. The deep fryer was staying until Steve could take it back to the bar, but the rest of his stuff was packed and ready to go. Jared hugged him, kissed Marisol on the cheek, and thanked them both profusely.

Chris, Beth, and Aldis said their good nights, Jason and Adrian offered to stay and help clean up, but Jared sent them off with their girls. The last of the laughter died away, the last car engine faded off into the night, and Jared was alone. Almost. Jensen still stood nearby. "I'll bring in the chairs from the yard, you get the candles." He turned to do as he said.

Following after, Jared said, "You don't have to."

"I know. Shut up, let's finish this up."

The dishwasher was loaded and running, another load stacked and ready, when that one was done. Jared turned off all but a couple of the lamps on low, wound up the cords on the game controllers and stowed them, sorted the games into their cases and returned them to their shelf, and grabbed up the few paper plates and crumpled napkins still scattered around. Jensen was tugging the drawstring closed on the trash bag when Jared brought the last few things to stuff inside. "Just leave that there. I'll put it out for pickup on Monday."

Jared pulled a couple of leftover beers out of the fridge and held one out to Jensen. "One for the road?"

Jensen accepted, clinked their bottles together, and they settled in the living room, enjoying the quiet.

Jared was the first to speak. "So, um, stop me if this is none of my business, okay?" He waited till Jensen nodded, with a somewhat guarded expression.

"How does it work--with the four of you? And you, not being, well, sexual?"

Jensen nodded, sighed a little, kicked up his boots onto the coffee table. "Well, mainly, it's them. At first it was Aldis and Beth. They were together, but they had sort of an open relationship. Aldis met Chris, and they hit it off. It got intense pretty quickly, so for a while, Aldis was with both of them, but separately. Then he introduced Chris to Beth, and backed off for a while, let Beth and Chris have some time to get to know each other--and both of them fell for each other, hard."

"Chris was kind of messed up for a while, wanting to do the right thing and not come between them, trying to decide who he wanted to be with. But whichever one he chose, that meant giving up the other one. He didn't want to be responsible for breaking them up. And he wasn't sure either of them would want to be with him, more than their previous partner."

He stretched his arms out along the sofa back and canted his head back to look at Jared, leaning against the open door to the deck. "He was a mess, for a while."

"So, how did they sort it out?" Jared asked.

"The three of them got together, and talked about none of them having to give up anybody. That they were both in love with him, and if he loved both of them, and was willing to try, if he thought they could make it work, they wanted him to be part of their relationship."

"Wow."

Jensen grinned. "Yeah."

"So, how long have they been together?" Jared stirred, and asked, "Another beer?"

Jensen nodded. "About three years, now. Little less."

"And, apparently, it's working for them." Jared handed him a chilled longneck, wet with condensation.

"Yeah."

"So, where do you come into that equation?"

"Chris and I have been friends since we were kids, we're really tight. And Beth and Aldis--well, after the three of them became a thing, they just all sort of pulled me in, too." He popped the cap and took a long, slow swallow.

Jared watched his throat move, and willed his attentive dick not to respond. He sat on the opposite end of the couch. "But, you said, no sex."

"No, I don't have sex with them."

"Then...?"

Jensen half-turned to face him, one knee drawn up on the cushion, a slight frown between his brows as he sought the right words to explain. "We're friends. We love each other, and we hug and kiss, we tease each other, we even gang up sometimes for tickle fights, whenever somebody's willing to risk retribution. And, we just hang out."

"So you're close enough to them to like hugging and kissing?"

A brief smile lit his features. "Yes, Jared, I like kissing. I like being held, I like cuddling. And, yes, I feel close to them. We trust each other. It's-- I guess it's affection, even, really, it's love. I love each of them, and I enjoy cuddling, holding someone I care about, even kissing."

He took another swallow of beer, his eyelids masking his expression when he continued. "But when things progress to the sexual, I get up and leave."

Jared moved restlessly, almost spoke, but stilled to listen, instead.

"They understand that about me, and for us, it's normal. It's how we are. I'm welcome to stay, if I want to, they've made that clear." He shrugged, his thumbnail scraping at the bottle's paper label. "I just don't want to."

Jared nodded, sipping at his own beer. "Okay, I guess I get that. But, man," he started, and then failed to finish his question.

"What?"

"Don't, I mean. Don't you need to--"

Finding the subject awkward, and not sure of the words to use, Jared was blushing a delicate pink, and Jensen took pity on him. "You mean, don't I need to come sometimes?" Jared nodded, and Jensen replied, seriously. "Sure I do. It's a physical discomfort, a need, like...brushing your teeth, or eating when you're hungry. It's not a sexual thing, for me. I just take care of it when I need to."

Jared was a little appalled at the starkness of sex for Jensen, solitary and without even affection. He struggled not to show the sympathy he felt, but Jensen was astute, and observant. And he was probably expecting Jared's reaction.

"Jared, don't do that. Don't feel sorry for me. You know, everybody's different. This is just the way I happen to be different. I'm fine, you know, really. I'm not pining away 'cause I'm missing out on anything, because I'm not. My life is pretty good, and I like it fine. This is just who I am."

Jensen had opened up to him, had let Jared in, behind that well-maintained reserve. And here Jared was acting like anybody and everybody else would, like Jensen was broken, or something. Jensen was telling him he wasn't broken; he was just the way he was, just Jensen. Jared looked up to meet Jensen's gaze, and nodded his understanding.

"Thanks. You really didn't have to explain. You shouldn't have to explain. But I appreciate that you trust me enough to."

"Yeah," Jensen shrugged. "I know it's-- It's different. I'm different. I guess I appreciate you being considerate enough to ask."

Jared picked at the paper label on his bottle with a thumbnail. "So," he asked, watching Jensen indirectly, from under his eyelashes. "You like kissing?"

Jensen snorted, smirking. "You picked up on that part, huh? Yes, Jared, I like kissing."

"Okay," Jared met his gaze, straight on. "You maybe want to try that sometime? With me?"

Jensen's smile was a thing of beauty.

* * *

"Rancher up north of town called in. Somebody killed one of his steers, out in a field," Jeff frowned down at the notes from the call, before glancing up and meeting the eyes of his deputies. "From his description of the carcass, it looks like our guy, again."

There were a couple of heartfelt curses, but everybody stilled when Jeff went on. "Jim's already out there. I need--Caroline, you know what you're looking for, take the camera and get photos of the wounds."

"Yes, sir."

"Adrian, you and Jason go take a look at the scene, pick up on anything that might be of help, talk to the rancher," he checked his notes again. "Mr. Ardell."

"Yes, boss."

Jeff studied the middle distance, his gaze unfocused. "We need to catch this guy," he said, speaking for all of them. "Before he works up to humans."

* * *

Friday night at Sam's, and Christian, Steve, and the rest of the guys were rocking hard. They owned the crowd, and everybody was having a great time. Sam scooped up Jared's longneck and replaced it with a fresh one.

"Your boy's sounding good tonight," she told Jared. His eyebrows went up, and he stared at her, shook his head a little.

"He's not my boy," he said.

"You sure about that?" she grinned. "You might want to ask Jensen, you go making blanket statements like that."

"What?"

Her grin got broader.

"Sam, what do you know that I don't know? Tell me!"

"Talk to your boy, Jared. 'S all I'm saying."

He spent the rest of the set fidgeting on his stool, wanting to get Jensen to himself and, as Sam had advised, talk to him.

 

When the last notes died away and the guys stepped down off the stage, Jared sidled up to Jensen with an open beer. Jensen took it with a smile. He wiped a sheen of sweat off his forehead with his shirt cuff and downed half the bottle in one draught.

Jared grinned. "You guys killed it tonight. The whole place was jumping."

Jensen laughed. It was a great sound. "Yeah, I guess everybody had fun."

Trying and failing to think of a segue, Jared just asked what he wanted to know. "Did you drive tonight?"

"Nah, I rode with Chris. Why?"

"You want a ride home?"

Jensen eyed him a moment, assessing the offer and what might be behind it. "Sure."

Jared nodded. "Okay. Let me know when you're ready to go."

Jensen turned to the other members of the band, and after a few comments about the night's performance, made his goodnights.

"Aw, Jenny," Adrian protested. "The night's young!"

"And it's not gonna get any older for you, if you call me Jenny again."

Adrian rolled his eyes, terrified. "Pffft. Go on home then, loser." 

*  *  *

"Hey, I got beer," Jensen offered, hand on the door handle. "Or coffee, if you'd rather."

Jared nodded. "Yeah, coffee'd be great." He killed the motor and locked up, following Jensen up the stairs. On the terrace, most of the street lights were masked by the surrounding buildings, and the stars overhead were bright.

"This is nice," Jared smiled, gazing up.

Jensen nodded. "Yeah, I like it. Come on in."

Jensen pointed through the hall toward the living room when he turned in to the kitchen. Jared gravitated toward the wall of books and objects. A bank of windows above the 1970s era couch overlooked the street, but on the left, dark wood shelves floated on dark metal standards on the tan-painted walls. There were a couple of carved wood masks, a bronze figure of a horse, several boxes in wood, and metals, and painted papier-mache. Head tilted sideways, Jared was reading titles, and recognizing many he owned himself, when Jensen walked in with a couple of mugs. He bumped Jared's arm and handed off a mug.

"In here? Or you want to sit outside?"

"I'm still investigating your library," Jared grinned. "You mind?"

Jensen made an expansive gesture with his free hand. "Not at all. See anything you like?"

"Yeah," Jared sipped at his coffee. "Lots. I've got a lot of these myself."

They discussed authors, and finished their coffee. Jensen poured them each another cup, and their discussion grew broader, deeper, and more animated. Swallowing the last of his now-cold coffee, Jared glanced at his watch, surprised to see he'd been here for more than a couple of hours. "I should go."

Jensen blinked lazily at him from the sofa where he slumped deep into the cushions. "Not unless you really want to," he responded. "You on duty in the morning?"

Jared shook his head. "Off tomorrow."

Jensen shrugged his shoulders. "No rush, then." His gaze leveled at Jared's face. Jared was pretty sure Jensen was staring at his lips. He was aware of this because he realized he was staring at Jensen's lips.

"I want to kiss you." He actually said it out loud.

"Come here," Jensen said. "You're too far away."

"For what?"

"For me to kiss you back."

Jared was suddenly beside him on the sofa, and kissing was happening. Lots of kissing. Kissing Jensen was awesome, and apparently Jensen liked kissing Jared, too. They did that for a while, until Jared realized his body was ready for more than kissing and, not wishing to spoil Jensen's mood, he eased back, putting a little space between his erection and Jensen while he planted two, three, soft kisses on Jensen's eyes, and the tip of his nose. Jensen blinked, a slow sweep of sandy lashes, and smiled at him.

"You were right," Jared told him.

"About what?"

"You do like kissing."

Jensen nodded. "I like kissing a lot. I like kissing you."

Jared leaned in again, to leave a soft kiss between Jensen's eyebrows. "I like kissing you, too."

"But you need more." Jensen regarded him, his features sober, the smile gone.

"I didn't say that," Jared protested. "I'm trying to understand how you don't. I mean--" He didn't want to push, he didn't want to be rude, or to disregard Jensen's feelings. But he did want to understand. "Just--have you ever even...?"

Jensen pushed up off the sofa, stood. "I need beer," he said, and walked out. "Come on," he called from the kitchen, and when Jared went after him, he led them out onto the terrace, a longneck in each hand, and handed one off to Jared before sinking down into a chair.

"To answer your question, yes, Jared, I have had sex." Jensen took a drink, lips pursed around the bottle's neck, throat working as he swallowed. It was killing Jared to watch him, and not feel able to act on his impulse to reach out again, to kiss that throat, lick up the sweat-salty column of his neck, bite down on that moving Adam's apple. But he sat still where he was, and Jensen went on.

"I had a girlfriend in high school. You know, the usual thing, hugging and kissing, a little obligatory groping." A little grimace was briefly there, and gone. "I was a gentleman," he said, nodding gravely. "I had no problem being a gentleman. Right up to the point where the girl obviously expected more, and I realized...I didn't want to. I pushed myself a little, but--" he shook his head, gaze on the tips of his shoes. "I got her off, but my dick just wasn't in the game. When she promised me, 'next time', I knew. I knew it wasn't anything I wanted to do. I felt like a freak. Every guy I knew was getting pussy or talking about getting pussy, or hoping to get pussy, and there just wasn't anything I wanted less. I broke up with her. I tried to be kind to her, and cool about it and everything, but I still felt like a freak."

"You had no way of knowing," Jared said.

"No, not then," Jensen agreed. "I waited for days, expecting her to tell somebody, let everybody know what a loser I was. But she never did. Or at least if she did, it never got back to me. I was glad, but really, it didn't make me feel any less of a freak, that nobody knew." He tipped the bottle up and took another sip before he continued.

"There was a guy in my life drawing class in college. He was funny, and pretty smart, and I thought, well, the het thing didn't go so well, maybe it's just that I'm not into girls." He canted a look under his brows at Jared, who nodded, but said nothing.

Jensen continued. "So we started hanging out, and it turned out he actually was gay, and he was into me, so it looked like things were going to go well."

Jared had taken a chair, and was close enough to watch Jensen's expression in the starlight as he took another pull of his beer. "And did they?" Jared prompted. "Did things go well?"

Jensen managed to swallow his sip of beer before he sputtered. "Not exactly. Well, they did for a while. There was kissing, and cuddling in front of the TV, and then some groping under the clothes. He asked if I wanted to top, or bottom--I didn't know what to say. I told him he was my first, so he suggested he top, for our first time, so he could 'take care of me.'"

Jensen fell silent, his gaze blank, apparently tracking old memories. Jared gave him a minute before asking, "What happened?"

"Oh. Ah--I didn't like it." His features twisted, and Jared couldn't tell if it was his own discomfort he was recalling, or the disappointment of his college partner. "He tried to reassure me, and we went out a few more times, no pressure. Then he suggested we try again, with me on top." He sighed heavily, and flopped back in his chair, hips slid forward so his back was bowed and his head rolled on the top rail of the chair, legs splayed out in front of him.

"No good?" Jared prompted.

The grimace of unpleasantness was eloquent. "Nuh uh. I was terrible. It was awful. I couldn't get my clothes on and get out of there fast enough."

"Man, I'm sorry," Jared commiserated softly.

Jensen heaved a gusty sigh. "Yeah, he called a couple of times, tried to talk me into getting together again. I could tell it was kind of half-hearted, though. I gave him the whole, it's not you, it's me, and let's just be friends thing. And he only argued long enough to be decent before he said okay."

He took a long pull of his beer, wiping the back of his wrist across his lips when he was done. Jared's cock had softened, but it stirred again in his jeans, not ready to give up. He tried not to let his reaction show, and Jensen continued.

"It was weird, seeing each other in class, but we stayed friendly, and the semester was over in a couple of weeks, anyway. I never had a class with him again. Rarely saw him around on campus. But when I did see him, a couple of months later, he was with this athletic looking blond guy--both of them seemed pretty wrapped up in each other." He raised his longneck again, "I wished them well. Still do." He took another sip.

Jared let the silence settle a little before he set down his half-empty beer. "I should go," he said, and watched Jensen's face twist before he masked it with a bland, pleasant expression. Jared moved closer, reached out and put a hand on Jensen's knee. "But I want to come back."

He could read the surprise in Jensen's eyes, as he continued. "Is my invitation still good? Because yours is, for my house, anytime you want."

Jensen's eyes met his then, and he nodded, once. "Sure. Invitation's open, of course."

Jared reached across the space between them and placed a soft kiss on his lips, pressing a little till Jensen opened. Jared took him by the elbows and stood, raising Jensen with him, pulled him in and wrapped his arms around him, deepening the kiss. It was a moment before he felt Jensen's arms go around him, and then Jensen was kissing him back. Jared enjoyed it for a minute before he drew back, looking down at Jensen's swollen lips and soft-focused eyes. "Good. 'Cause there's lots more kissing that needs to be done." He kissed Jensen's nose. "Lots."

A slow grin spread over Jensen's face. "Yeah," he breathed.

* * *


	4. Not all Cats are Grey in the Dark

* * *

Jared stood in his kitchen after his run, sweaty and drinking water from the tap as he stared out at the back yard through the glass doors.

"Lookin' good, JT." Raul stood a few feet away. Jared felt the urge to sweep him up in his arms, but something kept him rooted in place while Raul glanced around the kitchen, and out at the backyard view. "Nice place. It's good to see you settling in, putting down roots."

"Without you." Jared's voice was low and rusty, raspy after his run, and with choking back the tears and emotion he somehow knew would send Raul away.

"Yeah, well," Raul's features twisted in a wry half-smile. "It is what it is, baby. Up to you to make it what you want."

The tears spilled, and Jared took a step towards his lover. "What I want is you--"

Raul started to fade, fast. The last of him before he was gone was the terribly sad expression on his face.

Jared blinked, awake now, staring up at the ceiling. He hated the pills. And if he went back on them, he'd have to tell Jeff, because they could compromise Jared's judgment and ability. Riding a desk because he couldn't handle last year's tragedy wasn't something he wanted to admit to. Jared rolled to plant his face in his pillow. But seeing Raul like this, randomly and unexpected, wasn't something he was thrilled about, either. Not when he couldn't touch, not when he always woke up with empty arms and an empty heart.

* * *

"Jason, you and Jared canvass Mr. Ardell's neighbors," Jeff directed. "Adrian, you and Danay take a trip up to Northbrook and talk to the police. See if they've had anything like this going on up there. Somebody somewhere has to have seen this guy, or know something about him. We can't just sit here and wait for the next case. I'm really worried he's not going to stick with livestock." His gaze swept the deputies, who shared his concern. "He's escalating. His next victim will likely be human, and probably sooner, rather than later. We can't let that happen."

*  *  *

They agreed that Jason would drop Jared off at the Matthews ranch and go on to the Thomas place to ask questions. Jared would question Pilar Matthews, and Jason would swing by and pick Jared up when he was done at the Thomases'.

Pilar Matthews, 35, was divorced, and ran the ranch herself. She owned a few head of stock, but she leased her grazing land to a couple of ranchers whose herds were too large for their own land. The income from that, plus her online job as some sort of analyst, kept her and her two kids in food and clothes, and paid the mortgage.

The kids were Alex, ten, and Alicia, seven. From all reports, both were bright and did well in school, and didn't seem inclined to get into trouble. Jared took a look around as he walked up the dusty drive toward the ranch house. There weren't any kids that lived close. The Matthews kids must be each other's closest friends as well as playmates.

Jared had a foot on the bottom porch step when he heard a cry behind him, and turned around. An attractive, dark-haired woman was running toward him, yelling. "Oh, thank God you're here! Help me! Please, help me find my kids!"

The sky to the east was still blue, studded with puffy white clouds, and the early afternoon sunshine gilded everything it touched. He almost expected to hear cartoon bluebirds, the day looked so perfect. But there was a wind at his back, and when he turned to face Pilar Matthews, the sky was an ugly dark blue, churning with black-grey clouds that were moving eastward surprisingly quickly. As he watched, a transparent veil descended from the cloudbank, probably about five or six miles away. Rain.

The kids' mom plucked at Jared's jacket sleeve, tugging him toward rough ground, in the direction of the oncoming storm.

"Come on!" she pleaded. I've told them till I'm blue in the face, but I bet you anything they've gone down to the wash to play."

Jared followed her as she hurried ahead of him, feet barely touching the ground. She avoided rocks that rolled underfoot, ankle breakers, missteps that would put a man on the ground in a heap of limbs and embarrassment. He paid attention to his footing and scrambled after her. Threading down between some boulders that grew into hillsides, and then into small cliffs, Jared saw Pilar heading unwaveringly toward a gouge in the ground, a deep ditch--wider, a gulch. He scrambled down to the floor beside her, looking up the wash, and, while it didn't quite qualify as a true arroyo, it was steep-sided, and the farther up he and Pilar went, the higher the sides got. They were above his head, already.

"Alex!" Pilar called. "Leecy!" There was an edge of terror in her voice, and she choked for a second, before opening her clenched fists, smoothing them down her sides, and taking a deep breath.

"Alex!" Her call had a deep note in it now, one Jared had often heard in his own parents' tone, one that brooked no disobedience. "You kids answer me. Right now!"

Thunder rumbled, and Jared glanced up. His view was straight across the ground at eye level, and as lightning flashed in the roiling cloud, the curtain of rain was incredibly closer, and traveling fast--right towards them.

"Alex!" he added his voice to the call for the kids. "Leecy! Kids, we need you to answer us. Where are you?"

Thunder growled again, and through the echo of it, he thought he heard something. He put out a hand to Pilar. "Listen!"

"...ooomm!" a panicked cry reached them, and it galvanized Pilar.

"Alex! I'm coming, baby. Hang on!"

Jared ran with her as they climbed and scrambled further into the wash. The way took a sharp curve, and then they saw him, both hands pushing at an old dry log that had evidently rolled when he tried to scramble over it. His foot was pinned.

"Wait, buddy," Jared said, stopping the boy's futile pushing and trying to wiggle his foot free.

"Alex, sweetie, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Mom. Just--Leecy went further up the gully and I was going to get her, and the log rolled. I can't get free."

"You just be still," Jared told the boy. Alex blinked tears from his dark brown eyes and waited to be told what to do. "I'm going to lift this log, and you," he nodded at Pilar, "grab him under the arms and pull him free."

Pilar stood behind her son, leaning forward to loop her arms under his and clasp her hands together across his chest. Jared nodded again, and looked Alex in the eye. "When you feel the weight come off, you scoot back on your butt, okay?"

Alex nodded, his lips folded in and bitten tight, a pallor of fear under his light brown skin.

"Okay now," Jared bent and laid hold of the log. "Pull!" he said, as he used all his strength to raise it. Alex scooted and Pilar pulled hard enough to fall backwards onto her own rear end, and seeing Alex's foot was clear, Jared lowered the log back down, and dusted off his hands. "Let's look at that foot," he began, but Pilar had an expression of intense listening on her face.

"No time," she sent a panicky look Jared's way. Jared heard it, too. Water.

He decided in a second that Alex had a chance with his mom to help. "Get him out! Both of you, up the bank!" he told Pilar, as he ran toward the sound of rushing water.

He took his own advice and scrambled up a slope that was more slant than vertical. Flash floods were dangerous, and nothing to take chances with. He wasn't afraid to admit he was scared for the seven-year-old--so little, against the force of the flood. "Leecy!" he called, and called again. He kept calling as he traveled further and further up the gully, eyes scanning the brush and strewn rock and parts of trees from previous floods, looking for a flash of fabric, his ears straining for the sound of a child's voice.

There. He hadn't registered it for an instant--it sounded more like a whistle--like a train, a high, piercing, single note of panic. The bottom of the gully was wet--there was a trickle in the bottom of the stream bed, growing wider every second.

"Leecy! Where are you?" he bellowed.

"Here!" came the high voice, and he saw her. She was trying to climb out, but every time she made it upward a few feet, the sandy soil gave way and she slid back to the bottom. "Help!"

There was a horrible rushing rumble, and Jared sprinted toward where the little girl frantically scrambled for purchase. Before he could reach her, the first wave pushed down the wash, and he threw himself down on the rim of the gully, slid headfirst over the edge, digging in with his knees and his toes and his free hand, and thanking god for his height as he stretched one long arm and managed to reach barely far enough to grab her by one arm just as the wave rushed past, churning tree limbs and random debris. She clung to his forearm with the grip of a baby monkey, with both hands, as he inched his way backward up to the rim, finally able to roll over and pull her up against his chest.

Dripping wet and shivering with cold and terror and reaction, she burrowed into the crook of his neck, teeth chattering, sobbing, both hands clamped around fistfuls of his shirt and jacket.

The rain overtook them before Jared made it back to where he'd left Pilar and Alex. He wrapped Leecy as tight as he could in his uniform jacket, her head tucked under his chin to shelter her as much as possible. They weren't there, and he walked on toward the house, firmly believing Pilar had been able to get Alex up out of the wash, and carry him, if he wasn't able to walk back to the house. Halfway there, Jared saw dimly through the downpour, a man with Alex on his back, Pilar walking beside him. Jared lengthened his stride, and realized the man was Jason. When Pilar saw him with Leecy, she dropped back and put a hand on his arm, squeezing hard to convey her thanks. They didn't try to speak, just trudged through the deluge until they reached the house, and climbed up on the porch. Rain pounding on the tin roof didn't offer any better chance of hearing each other talk, but Pilar went inside and brought out a stack of towels, and took her daughter from Jared. She sat on the rough settee made of bent branches and gathered both children to her. The three of them cuddled in quiet, and she gestured to empty chairs. Jason and Jared sat to wait out the storm.

Pilar had heard or seen nothing, but she promised to keep an eye out. She thanked them profusely for rescuing her kids, and if Jared interpreted her expression correctly, she would be keeping them close by her until the butcher was caught.

Jason wanted details of how he had found Alicia, but Jared was exhausted. He leaned against the window on the passenger's side of the truck, uncomfortable in his soaked-through clothes, and managed to doze off before they got back to the department.

*  *  *

Jared didn't even bother turning on lights, once he got home. He had changed clothes and showered at the department, and now all he wanted was a beer, and his bed. He should eat, he realized. But the thought of chewing was exhausting. In fact, he didn't even really want the beer. He poured it down the kitchen drain and put the bottle in recycling before heading to bed.

A knock at the door stopped his progress, though. He leaned against it. Maybe he could pretend not to be home, and whoever it was would just go away.

"Jared?" Another knock. "Jared, it's Jensen. I know you're in there. Open up."

Jared's hand twisted the lock and then the knob, and the door swung open a bit. Jensen stood there on his front stoop, a couple of white bags from Kane's in his hands.

"Jensen," Jared acknowledged. "Now's really not the time, man."

Jensen nodded, and then shouldered his way past Jared and into the house. "I know. Jason told me what happened. I won't stay long. But I figured you'd be too tired to feed yourself, and you gotta eat. Come on." He held both bags in one hand and took Jared's arm with the free hand, propelling him toward the kitchen. He pushed him toward one of the bar stools and waited till Jared seated himself, and then fetched plates and flatware from the cupboard and drawer, and started laying out a meal. It smelled really good, but Jared couldn't even figure out what it was, until Jensen climbed on the stool next to him, put one of the plates in front of him and took the other himself.

He raised his fork, but before he started eating, he asked, "Did you want to eat outside?" Jared just shook his head. "Okay, then eat, man. It's good. Kane sent it, special."

It took some determination, but Jared did manage a few forkfuls. Flavors burst on his tongue, and he began to chew more thoughtfully, starting to enjoy the food. He reached for his glass. Jensen had poured them wine. He hadn't even noticed. By the time his plate was clean, Jared had begun to feel a lot more like himself. He turned to Jensen to say so. "Thank you so much. I didn't even realize how tired I was. This really helped."

"Glad to do it," Jensen grinned. "There's enough for seconds. You want more?"

Jared shook his head no. "Let me stick the leftovers in the fridge, then. Go stretch out on the couch while I clean up." Jared wanted to protest, but Jensen just spun him in the right direction and gave him a push, and he followed the path of least resistance. He turned the lamp in the corner on low, because it was full night out, now, and he didn't favor smashing into things in the dark. His couch was wonderfully soft and comfy, he thought, snuggling down into the cushions. Beth was a wonderful decorator, to find him such a good couch. He drifted in a pleasant, well-fed haze, until the cushion beside him dipped, and a kiss pressed on his lips. "Mmm." That was nice. He opened to the pressure, and a clever tongue slipped inside, to stroke against his own, a slightly wine-flavored kiss. He managed to move his arms, wrapping them around his kisser, and pulling him down on top of him. Jensen came willingly, wriggling so he could settle with his back to the sofa back, and most of his weight on Jared, stretched full length. The most important thing, though, he managed to do it all without breaking the awesome kiss.

Jensen felt so good in his arms, smelled so good. He made little contented sounds as they kissed, and he was a good kisser--really, an amazing kisser. Jared knew this wasn't leading to bed, and he was sorry about that, he had to admit it. But this right here, this much that Jensen was willing, was able to give him? This was pretty damn good. He'd take it.

He might jerk off in the bathroom as soon as Jensen left. Or he might wait until he was relaxed in his bed, with Jensen's scent still on his skin, and take his time stroking his cock and fondling his balls, making it as good for himself as solitary intimacies could be, recalling how Jensen felt in his arms, the pressure of hard muscles and rough stubble against Jared's own, indulging in the pleasures of several senses until he reached completion and came over his own hand, spilling onto his belly and tangling in the curls above his cock.

But right here, right now, he was storing up these sense-memories, of the little sounds Jensen made, the taste of him, the prickle against his palm of the cropped hair at Jensen's nape, and the scrape against Jared's cheek of Jensen's late-night beard shadow. Jensen's fingers spread through Jared's hair and kneaded at his scalp, nails scratching gently. Those fingers traced over his cheekbones and jaw, his lips, down his neck, and along his collarbones. He was listening, perfectly attuned to the happy note of Jensen's voice as his tongue probed at Jared's teeth and sucked at Jared's tongue. He was aware, alive, and letting go of regret that he couldn't lay Jensen down, naked on his bed, with limbs flung wide, and ravish him all over with kisses.

Jensen writhed against him, a new note in the little sounds he was making. He pushed and pulled at Jared, shifting him into a different position. Jared just went with it, allowed himself to be manhandled, and Jensen settled back down against him, even closer than before. He felt hot breath on his spit-slicked lips before Jensen dove back in, tongue probing, licking, tasting. Jensen's hands gripped Jared's shoulders, harder, more intense than he remembered them ever being before. And--what--? Jensen was _writhing_ , grinding against Jared's hip.

Jared's conscious mind wasn't right on top of things right now, but--but--wasn't this something that Jensen _didn't_ want? What-- Should he say something? Or stop it? Or, just let this continue until--

Well, until what? Did he really think Jensen was going to rut against him to completion? It would be great if he did--it would be fantastic! But, what if Jensen didn't want that? It might ruin what they had. And he didn't want to lose that, he couldn't lose Jensen, even whatever part of him that he had. What should he do?

"Jared,"

"Hmfh?"

"You're thinking too loud." Jensen ground a particularly slow and heavy arc against Jared's hip--and Jared could feel it now. Could feel Jensen's cock through his pants, through Jensen's pants. Jensen was hard!

He reached down, laying a hand gingerly along Jensen's hip, still kissing him, still breathing the same air. "Jensen?"

"Mmm."

"Wan' me to help?"

"Uh-uh," Jensen gasped into his mouth, ground hard against Jared's hip again, and shuddered. His hips moved a few more times, and then stilled, Jensen's lips still touching Jared's, their breath still mingling.

Jared's hand came up to stroke Jensen's face, palm his hair. He smiled down at this beautiful man, who blinked back up at him.

"You good?" he asked, quietly.

Jensen leaned into his hand like a cat, rubbing, smiling a little. He nodded, humming, and settled even closer against Jared, fitting himself in, like coming home. "Sleep," he said. Jared was good with that.

He willed his own erection to subside, and it did, a little, after a while. He moved carefully, settling himself more comfortably, making a little more room on the couch for Jensen, though he seemed quite satisfied to sprawl mostly on top of Jared, if his quiet purring snores were any gauge. He'd wait before waking Jensen, a nap together would be nice. He wanted to enjoy this while he had it. Warm, relaxed and content, Jared's eyes slipped closed.

*  *  *

Diffuse morning light was spilling in the windows when Jared woke with a warm body pressed close against--and on top of--him.

Jensen stirred, waking, and then stopped, realizing where he was. He groaned a little, and couldn't help rubbing body parts against Jared, trying to sit up. "Eughh," he said, and Jared smothered his grin. He knew what waking up with come dried cold in his underwear felt like, tacky and flaking on skin. He lay still while Jensen climbed awkwardly to his feet. Then he sat up, stretched, and yawned, turning the stretch into a wave toward the bathroom.

"G'morning. Shower's yours, if you want it."

"Ugh. Please. Morning." Jensen stretched his back out, head back, neck curved backward, fists pushing against his lower back, before heading to the bathroom.

"I'll find you some clothes," Jared offered.

"Great," Jensen agreed. "Thanks."

*  *  *

Jared heard the water cut off, and poured a mug of coffee, setting it on the breakfast bar as Jensen approached. He wore the sweats, socks, t-shirt, and hoodie Jared had left for him, and was rubbing at his wet hair with a towel. Everything fit, Jared noted, except for the sweatpants that puddled adorably around his ankles, like harem pants. Jared grinned to himself at an image he wasn't sure Jensen would appreciate. Jensen slung the towel around his neck and reached for the mug, inhaling avidly before his first sip. He smiled his, "Mmm" of appreciation.

"I was going to ask how you take it," Jared snickered, his question answered by Jensen's expression as he sipped his coffee. "It's ready," he waved at the breakfast bar, flatware and glasses for two, a pitcher of orange juice, a stack of buttered toast and a plate of bacon. "Have a seat." He munched on a strip of bacon, turning back to the stove to scoop eggs scrambled with cheese from the pan onto two plates, and set one in front of Jensen, the other at his own place.

"We've got," he checked the labels on the jars. "Honey, jam, and jelly for the toast." He scooped all the jars together in both hands and set them on the bar in easy reach, adding spoons for each before grabbing his coffee mug and sliding onto his own stool.

Jensen poured a glass of OJ for Jared and then one for himself. "Impressive," he looked over the meal.

Jared sipped his juice and grinned. "Nah, you just caught me on a day when there were actual groceries."

They ate in companionable silence. Jensen got up to pour them more coffee, and when the last slice of toast and the final strip of bacon were gone, Jared rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. They took their coffee to the living room to finish, sitting at opposite ends of the sofa. Jared let the silence go on a bit before he asked, "So, are we okay?"

Jensen concentrated on his coffee and shrugged. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"Well, last night." After he'd started, Jared second-guessed himself, wondering if maybe he shouldn't say anything, just leave it alone and see what happened. But he was afraid what had happened would upset Jensen somehow, make him back off, distance himself, and shut Jared out. He didn't want that to happen. "I just--was that okay?"

Green eyes glittered, and laugh lines crinkled at their corners. "Yeah," the fucker smirked. He flicked a glance up at Jared, and smiled, a real smile, blinding and happy. Jared's heart turned over in his chest, that smile was so good. "It was fine. I wasn't expecting it," his glance fell, his expression faintly embarrassed. "It never happened before."

Jared's heart thumped heavy for a beat or two. "Really?"

Jensen nodded. "Yeah."

Oh, this was good, wasn't it? This was huge. Jared's mouth was dry, and he swallowed before he could speak again. "So--so we're good?"

"Yeah, Jared. We're definitely good."

* * *

"Boss?" Jake's voice was thin with stress. "I think it's him."

Jeff walked out to the bullpen, looked to see that everyone was paying attention before he lifted the receiver and pushed the button. "You're on speaker," he told Jake. It might save time, having everybody hear this at once. "Go ahead."

"Uh. Same wounds, same pattern." There was an audible gulp. "But--this one's human."

Jeff took Caroline with him to the location where the body had been found, along some back road miles out of town that hardly anybody ever used. The butcher hadn't buried the body, hadn't tried to cover it at all. It hadn't been there long enough for animals to get at it, and Jeff wanted to question the off-road bikers who had found it.

It was obvious the man had been killed elsewhere, and dumped here. There was no blood around, none soaked into the ground as it had been with the animals. The wounds, though, from what they could tell, were the same. Caroline took her photos; Dr. McNally performed a thorough on scene exam, and promised them more information once he'd had some time to process the body.

The off-roaders were a complete wash. They were just out for the day, looking for a rough route to set up a race for their club, and had happened on the body completely by accident. Jeff thanked them and let them go. Dr. McNally called the next morning. Jared and Adrian were in the office, and Jeff took them along with him to the ME's office.

"I haven't been able to determine his ID yet," McNally told them. "County is running his prints. Interestingly enough, I was able to lift some prints I'm pretty sure are the killer's, and I sent those in, too, and we're running those, as well. You'll know as soon as I do when we get any results."

Jeff nodded his thanks.

McNally stepped to the side of the table where the nude corpse lay, and touched one of the wounds with his gloved hand, fingers spreading the edges of the gash wider. "There's cloth embedded in a lot of these wounds," he said, using bent tweezers to pluck a small cluster of fibers from the cut. He tucked the bit of cloth into an evidence bag, sealed it, and wrote on the bag. "He didn't strip him before he killed him, and we got lucky." McNally moved to another table, where the corpse's clothing was laid out, and carefully labeled. He added the new bag to the display.

"He opened the man's shirt and pants before he cut, but he didn't take them all the way off. There was a perfect thumbprint on the button of the jeans," he pointed to the jeans, and then to the belt, which lay full-length on the table. "And I lifted a couple of partials off the shirt buttons, and the belt." McNally shook his head. "This was not an easy way to go."

"Pretty obvious," Jeff agreed.

The ME met Jeff's gaze before he said, "I mean, aside from the wounds, which, yes, are pretty horrific, I'm talking about before he died." He moved back to the cadaver table. "This man was kept prisoner, for days, possibly weeks, before he was killed. Look here at the ligature marks." McNally pointed to the dark bruises circling the body's wrists. "And here, on the ankles." More bruises there, too. "And here," he pointed to what looked like a stretched grin of bruised tissue stretching from either side of the mouth. "He was gagged. And from the muscle tone, he'd apparently been kept confined for quite a while. There's evidence of early-stage malnutrition, and, here," he used a telescoping pointer. "Under the cuts, there's bruising. It's probable that he was beaten."

"So, he was kept tied up, a prisoner--but why?" Morgan wondered aloud. "Did he do something to piss our guy off? Or is he just the next step up in this butcher's killing spree?"

"But--" Adrian hesitated, but at a nod from Morgan, he continued. "Why would he keep him alive? It seems like a lot of trouble, not to mention more of a risk of being caught. And why didn't he take his prisoner's belt? Remove the shoes and belt, that's pretty standard, right?"

Jared nodded his agreement. "I don't understand why he didn't just kill him right away, like he did the animals."

"Maybe he wanted him to know what was coming," McNally suggested.

That thought was chilling, worse than anything else they knew so far about this killer. 

*  *  *

The state office called that afternoon. "We've got a hit on the fingerprints."

Jeff hit speaker, and his voice sharpened. "The dead man's fingerprints?"

"No, the fingerprints found on the body, on the clothing. It's a positive match. Edgar Lewis, 38, born in Everett, Washington. He's got a record a mile long, in several states, mostly for theft, assault. He did a ten-year stretch for armed robbery. Apparently he minded his manners and impressed the parole board in Utah earlier this year. They released him, and then he disappeared. There's not been any record of him anywhere, since."

"Looks like we got lucky," Jeff growled into the phone. "He popped up here, and with a nifty new hobby."

"Yeah," the officer responded.

"You got a picture of this Edgar Lewis?"

"Yeah. I'm sending it now."

"Okay, thanks. Still no news on who our body might be?"

"Nothing yet. We're still running the prints, though. I'll get back to you as soon as something turns up."

"Thanks," Jeff said, and disconnected. After a minute he raised his gaze and looked at everybody in the room. They all shared the same thought.

Shit.

*  *  *

Jared knew Jensen had made plans that evening with Chris, so he didn't even call. Jared would probably be rotten company, anyway. He nuked a frozen dinner and ate out on the deck, some sort of easy listening music on the radio keeping the silence at bay. He surfed television for a half hour without finding anything remotely interesting to watch, and took his laptop to bed early. He checked his email, answered ones from his sister and his mom. He needed to ask them to visit, soon. They'd like the house. Without any real expectation, he typed "Edgar Lewis" into a search, and lay back to see what the internet came up with.

There were the usual mentions of arrest, and prison release. But there was also an article on Edgar's high school graduating class, at Renaulds High School, somewhere in Washington State. Jared looked up the high school, and after a few dismal reports of losing sports teams and a lackluster fundraiser held by the Civics club in Eason County, he searched on the county, and a link appeared that had Jared sitting up straight and clicking.

"Grisly maulings in Eason County." There were blurry newspaper pictures of a bunch of men standing around a cow carcass, with a description of the wounds, "made by Satan worshippers." The article referred to incidents of smaller animals found earlier with the same marks. Fuck.

_Fuckfuckfuck._ This was not a first-time deal, Edgar Lewis had done this before, elsewhere. Jared bookmarked the sites, and searched for a map of the state, making note of the names of towns and counties surrounding Eason. Then he searched on those place names, and was a little relieved to come up empty, until a small article caught his attention. A three-year-old boy had wandered away from a family picnic in a public park. It was only when his family missed him and started calling, that he had stumbled out of the woods, crying, and babbling about a monster. The little boy's shirt was unbuttoned, and there were shallow cuts on his torso, dismissed as scratches he'd gotten walking through the brush. But the article did say it was odd that the cuts matched on each side.

Crap. Jared's blood ran cold. There wasn't any proof of connection, nothing in those articles that pointed definitively at Lewis being responsible for any of those things. But the coincidence was enough to convince Jared. He thought about it, but decided not to call and get Jeff out of bed in the middle of the night. This could keep until morning.

Jared poured himself a generous glass of whiskey from the bottle that lived in the bottom kitchen cupboard. He wasn't a whiskey drinker, and most of his friends stuck to beer and wine. He kept this on hand for occasions that called for something stronger. This was one of those. Jared left the glass on his bedside chest and took a long, hot shower, letting go as much as he could of the new information he'd found. He got into bed, and tossed down the rest of the whiskey before turning off the light and pulling up the covers, and thinking really hard about maybe buying an aquarium. It would be nice to stretch out and watch the fish swim. He wondered if Jensen liked aquariums. Jensen and he could stretch out together on Jared's comfy sofa and watch the pretty, bright colored fish swim. That would be nice.

*  *  *

The bus lurched as Kelly took a corner really hard, folding Jared forward over the stretcher and throwing Travis against the side panel. He righted himself quickly, still trying to get the IV in, and Jared wanted to shout at Kelly to slow down, be more careful. But a glance at Raul had him wanting to yell, go faster! Gun it!

Despite the straps that secured Jared's husband to it, the stretcher itself lurched, and Raul's head rolled. Blood trickled from his slack lips to trail down his cheek and collect in the cup of his ear. Another lurch and his head rolled again, and the little pool of blood spilled down his earlobe to drip onto the white sheet. The stain spread, fast, till it colored the whole sheet under Raul's head and dripped onto the floor of the speeding ambulance, into a puddle that widened around Jared's feet. "JT," Raul whispered, drawing Jared's gaze back to his face. Raul rasped in a breath to speak, but the air met resistance, and bubbled out again in the blood on his lips as he formed words Jared couldn't understand.

*  *  *

I wasn't checking police records, or prison records," Jared said. "This was just local gossip. They never caught the person in Eason County, and there's no way to prove it was Edgar Lewis. But I think the coincidence is high enough to be suspicious."

"I'll say," Jeff growled. "I still think it's pretty incompetent that this didn't make it into any file on Lewis."

"Well, we know now that he's been doing this kind of thing for a lot longer than we thought," Danay said.

The entire force was out canvassing, showing copies of the mug shot State had sent. It wasn't triggering any recognition. Nobody remembered having seen the man in the picture, but at least people in town knew to be aware, now. Most of them already knew about the animal mutilations, but Jeff had only released a terse statement to the press regarding the murder, with no description of the wounds, and only a general description of the dead man's height, approximate weight, hair and eye color. The face was too disfigured to photograph. A police artist from Northbrook was on her way to MiddIebrook. Jeff hoped she would have enough imagination to draw their victim's face close to what it was in life.

*  *  *

Jared was expected for dinner at Jensen's, and he took some time in the shower to take the edge off, beforehand. He couldn't help imagining Jensen's features, those gorgeous eyes, the freckles, that incredible mouth. He knew he'd be tasting that mouth pretty soon, and he allowed himself to remember the taste of Jensen, the pressure, the eager tongue seeking his, the gasps and murmurs and the hardness of teeth, while he tugged and rolled his balls with one hand, and stroked his dick with the other. Long, slow slide of his hand at first, slicked by soap and water, before his breath started to hitch and the strokes got faster, harder, until he tensed, on the edge for seconds, before he was spilling into the water streaming over him, his release swirling with the soap foam, down the drain. He leaned against the shower wall for a minute, getting his breath back, heartbeat slowing, wondering if this release, by his own hand, could be enough for him. He could admit to himself that he wanted Jensen, for sex, yes, but for more than just sex. He enjoyed his company, they shared a lot of interests, Jared felt good when he was with Jensen, and from what he could tell, Jensen felt the same way. He wanted to be with him. But if they were together, stayed together, for however long, would this kind of sex be enough?

He rinsed off the last of the soap, and shut off the water. 

*  *  *

"But these idiots who think they can cheat the IRS and get away with it," Jensen waved his fork, indignation swirling around him like a hero's cape. "Then they bring this mouse nest of paper to me in a shoebox, in a bag from Joe's Sports, or Elena's Lingerie, and expect me to magically sort it all out for them--and find them a hefty refund, on top of it!"

Jared nodded, stifling the smile that wanted to break out. He hadn't seen Jensen indignant and passionate about his work before. It was kind of adorable, but he was sure Jensen wouldn't appreciate him saying so. And honestly, he told himself, mocking the man's profession was not a nice thing to do.

"You should charge extra," he suggested, between forkfuls of pot roast made to Jensen's mom's recipe. "This is great," he added. "My compliments to your mom on her recipe. And my compliments to her son on his cooking." His voice dropped in tone, and he waggled his eyebrows. "As well as a few other things," he smirked. "Like his kissing. And the amazing shape of his ass in those jeans."

Jensen's fork stopped halfway to his mouth, which was partway open. He dropped his gaze, ate the forkful, swallowed, and said, "Thanks." Then the green eyes flashed again. "And I do charge extra. I even tell them I'm charging them extra. I could probably charge them as much extra as they're expecting in a refund, and they'd still do it."

Jared just smiled and nodded, and ate wine-cooked carrot and potato.

"Children," Jensen snorted.

They finished the meal with Jared still poking gently at Jensen's trials with his clients, and Jensen's sneaking appreciation of the humor in the situation. He was in fine spirits by the time the last bite was swallowed, and Jared helped clear. The round Danish modern table and matching chairs fit perfectly into the corner nearest the kitchen. The rest of the room was furnished with the mid-century modern sofa and chairs, one of them an Eames knock-off, complete with the pedestal ottoman.

"I recognize Beth's touch." Jared slowly walked the length of the room, interested in the framed blueprints, architectural elevations, and drawings hung at varying heights. There was only one wall available, since the windows took up the street-facing wall, and the bookshelves climbed the wall common with the bedroom. A cluster of photographs and carvings hung on the kitchen wall. Each piece was interesting in itself, and somehow it all came together in a whole that felt very much like Jensen himself--different moods, textures, points of view--and still managed to blend into a pleasant living space.

Jensen emerged from the kitchen, two coffee mugs in hand. "Yeah, she really helped me pull it together." He handed off a mug to Jared, and made himself comfortable on the couch. "I had these chairs from my grandparents' house. And I picked up the surfboard coffee table at a thrift shop, years ago. I had a lot of the art in a folder, just because I liked it. Beth found frames for the pieces, and she found the couch, and the dining set. She thought the floors needed rugs." He indicated the heavily textured wool rugs floating on the polished concrete floor. "And she picked out the fabric to recover the couch."

Jared smiled. The fabric was what his mom called a "television print," squiggly square outlines of turquoise and black, overlapping on a grey background. It definitely suited the lines of the couch. Jensen settled comfortably against the slope of the sofa back. "She's pretty amazing at putting things together."

Jared nodded. He felt the same way about his house. Beth had found pieces that seemed to fit, to belong, as if they'd always been there. But she had incorporated Jared's art, and taken his preferences into account. "It feels like home," he said, and Jensen's smile matched his own. Jared was drawn by that smile. He set his mug on the coffee table and joined Jensen on the sofa, setting Jensen's coffee out of harm's way, too.

"Hi," he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Jensen's lips.

Jensen breathed a coffee-flavored, "Hi, back," and then he was kissing Jared enthusiastically. Jared kicked off his shoes, and laid Jensen down, stretching out beside and on top of him. Jensen toed off his own shoes, and his hands pulled insistently at Jared's shirt, trying to loosen it from his belt. Once he had it untucked, his hands were on Jared's skin, skating up and down his back, pulling him in even closer.

Jared bit at Jensen's jawbone, pressed a hot kiss behind his ear, breathing a gusty breath over the spit-wet spot, and feeling Jensen shudder. "This all right?" he murmured, between kisses, and Jensen nodded and suckled an earlobe, his hands sliding under Jared's belt in back, under the waistband of his boxers. Fingers pressed into the meat, where the dimples were on either side of his spine. And he gasped, searching for stolen breath as he ground his hips against Jensen's.

Without warning, Jensen's hands grabbed his shoulders, and he twisted, the sneaky fucker, putting Jared on his back, underneath him on the couch. Hands fumbled at this belt, the catch released and the belt was laid open. "Whatcha doin', Jensen?" he sucked in heat and the delicious scent of Jensen's skin. Jensen lowered his zipper, and his hand rubbed, and then cupped the damp bulk of Jared's cock where it pressed against the cotton.

Jensen stared into his eyes, but then his gaze fell to the opening of Jared's pants. "Let me?"

"God, yes." Jared nearly came, just at the thought, but he took a breath, his hand on Jensen's wrist. "You sure, man? You don't have to..."

Jensen pulled a fold of skin on Jared's neck between his teeth, sucking hard. "Want to," he gasped, and his fingers eased between elastic and skin. It felt like an electric shock, like a current, and Jared was going to spill any second, before Jensen actually got Jared's dick in his hand. But he held on, watching Jensen's face as the man closed his hand around Jared, squeezing lightly.

"This all right?" His eyes sought Jared's, and Jared managed a smile.

"Anything, man. I'm in your hands." Jensen grinned at the pun, and dropped his gaze back to Jared's dick, where the head had started to appear and recede in the circle of Jensen's fingers and thumb. Jared couldn't hold on anymore. His head went back, and he gasped, "Gonna--"

His hips pumped up, and he came, spilling over Jensen's hand, and over his own belly. He lay still for a minute, getting his breath back. When he opened his eyes, Jensen was staring hungrily at his face. "Was--was that all right?"

Jared surged up off his back and took Jensen in his arms, wrapping him tight, until he squeaked before Jared eased off a little.

"That," he kissed Jensen on the nose. "Was perfect." He reached for Jensen's belt, but he shifted, and shook his head a little. He glanced up to meet Jared's eyes, and quickly away again.

"Tonight was about you." His body tensed a little, as if he wanted to draw away.

Jared just held him there in his arms, not too tightly. He could move away if he wanted. "What about me, Jensen?"

"I-- I've never," he hesitated. "I wanted to see. If I could. If it was good--for you." His gaze darted up, to catch Jared's, and held there. "And for me."

Jared didn't tighten his grip. He didn't let go. He asked, quietly. "And what's the verdict?"

Jensen shifted, and Jared waited to see what he would do. Jensen looked up again. "I wanted to, because it was you." He smiled. "I liked it. I liked watching you. I like knowing I can make you come like that, like you aren't thinking about anything else, in that moment. It made me feel good."

Jared smirked into Jensen's hair. "It made me feel pretty damn good, too. Blew my brains out my dick."

Jensen snickered, and then he stirred. "Let me up, Sasquatch."

Jared's arms tightened. "Nuh-uh. You're mine, now."

"I'll be right back, dumbass. Let me up."

So Jared did, and Jensen brought him a warm washcloth and towel from the bathroom, and while Jared was cleaning up, there was the sound of a popping cork from the kitchen. "You bringing us champagne, shorty?"

"Not short, you damn yeti. And it's just a nice, ordinary red wine. Here." He handed off one glass and set the other down and went to dispose of the towels.

They found themselves snuggling while they finished the wine. Jared blinked. Wine was a bad idea, he reminded himself, a little late. He had to drive home.

"Stay," Jensen said, and Jared peered owlishly at him. Had he said that out loud? "It's late, and you don't want to drive this soon after the wine. Stay. The bed's big enough for two--even with your longass arms and legs."

*  *  *

There was a moment's disorientation the next morning, before Jared realized where he was. Jensen waved a mug of coffee at him and set it on the bedside table.

"Eggs and toast up in a minute," he promised. "You want to shower?"

Jared stifled a yawn and sat up, stretching. "Nah. Listen, don't bother with the eggs. I'm just going to run home and grab a shower and a uniform before I head to work."

He slid to the edge of the bed and reached for his jeans, pulling them on, getting them zipped, buttoned, and belted before finding and pulling on his socks and shoes. Jensen handed him his shirt and jacket, and reached up to kiss him. Jared grinned, wrapped an arm around Jensen and hugged him tight before sipping at his coffee. He handed off the mug, kissed Jensen and headed for the door, pulling on his shirt. "I'll call you," he promised.

* * *


	5. Not all Cats are Grey in the Dark

 

* * *

"But I was going to the library to look up these symptoms I've been having," Mrs. Peterson was complaining to Danay, who was on the desk this morning. "And the library was closed. The library's always open by nine o'clock, every morning."

"Maybe Ms. Williams is running late this morning," Danay suggested.

"But it's almost ten, now. She's never this late," Mrs. Peterson argued. "She's never ever late, at all. Something's happened," the older woman insisted. "Something's wrong. Do something!"

"Yes ma'am. Please have a seat, and I'll see what we can do."

Danay checked the number and dialed the library. It rang a dozen times, but there was no answer. She looked up the librarian's home number, and called there. The answering machine picked up on the fourth ring.

"Anybody know where Tom Williams works?" she asked the staff in the office. Merrilyn thought he worked at the tire store, so Danay called there. Tom did work there, and he was just as puzzled as anybody else that the library wasn't open. There was a note of worry in his voice.

"She was fine this morning. Everything was just as usual. She got in her car and left for work before I left, myself. She didn't have any errands to run on the way in, should have gotten there on time, just like she does every other day."

Danay tried to reassure Mr. Williams, and got a description and license number for her car. She tapped on the frame of Jeff's open door, and briefed him on their missing person.

"Radio the deputies on patrol, tell them to look out for that car." When that was done, Danay remembered that Mrs. Peterson was still waiting, and returned to the desk to ask her, "Does Ms. Williams have an assistant?"

Danay called Michael, the part-time assistant, and asked if he could open the library alone for the day. "He'll be there in a half-hour, Mrs. Peterson, if you want to go over there, now."

*  *  *

While the county-wide search for Denalda Williams was going on, Jeff got a call from the State office. "Got an ID on your vic, Jeff. He turned up on military records. His name is Ben A. Martin, 35, no record, other than some minor juvie stuff."

"Ben Martin? Are you sure?"

"Well, I'm staring at his record, and yep, the prints are a perfect match."

"That's impossible."

"Okay, and why is that?"

"Because our new pastor's name is Ben Martin. He's just taken over the church, after Pastor Stevens retired."

It hit Jeff then, and he couldn't get a breath for a moment. "Oh Jesus. Oh, crap. Listen, send me everything you've got on Martin. And have you found out anything more on Edgar Lewis?"

"No, not really. That information you sent us about the cases in Washington State that you think might be connected--well, there's not enough information in those files to be helpful. And nothing positively points to Lewis. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Thanks. Just send me that info."

He hung up and took a look around the office. Everyone present was still and staring at him.

"Jason, you and Danay get down to the church. Radio Jared and Caroline to go by Ben Martin's house, and all of you watch yourselves. Martin's our guy."

"The pastor?" Jason asked.

"The man in the morgue is our pastor," he told them. The man we've believed to be Ben Martin is actually Edgar Lewis."

"Boss?" Jason had the car keys in his hand, but he stopped to ask. "You think he kidnapped the real Ben Martin, and took his place?"

Jeff nodded. "I think it was a golden opportunity for him to live in the community, to be looked up to and respected. Nobody would ever think to accuse a man of God of...the things Edgar Lewis has done. And taking the real Ben gave him a victim who would never be missed, that he could take his time with."

Danay hesitated, but forced out the question anyway. "Boss, you think he's got Ms. Williams?"

Jeff blinked, before he could focus, and his gaze swept them all. "I think if we don't find her in the next hour, find her car broken down and her stranded because she forgot to charge her cell phone and she doesn't have OnStar, yeah. I am afraid of that. You two get on with your assignments. I've got instructions for the rest of the force."

*  *  *

It was a long, brutal bear of a day. The man they'd accepted as Pastor Ben, now known to be Edgar Lewis, had vanished into thin air. His house looked like he had stepped out for lunch and would be back any minute. There were no clothes missing, that searchers could tell. No dirty dishes, nothing that would give any clue to where he might have gone. And there was no sign of Denalda Williams, either. There wasn't much hope that she was merely lost and waiting to be found. They were pretty certain that Edgar Lewis had taken her, as he had the real Pastor Ben.

Jeff sent the day shift home with orders to rest and be back the next morning ready to work.

Jared called Jensen, confessed to being tired, cranky, and not very good company and asked him to come over, anyway. Jensen investigated Jared's refrigerator and put together a simple meal, and saw to it that Jared ate. They cuddled on the couch for a while, but Jared was tired and apologized for being so scattered.

"I know you're under pressure, Jared. It affects everything. Here. Why don't you just go to bed. You'll feel better after a good night's sleep."

"Can't sleep."

"Why not?"

"Stay the night. Sleep with me."

Jensen's eyebrows went up, but Jared didn't even tease. "Just sleep."

Jensen gave him a long, assessing look, then nodded. They stripped to tee shirts and boxers and crawled under the covers, and Jared wrapped his arms around Jensen, and they both drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Travis pressed Jared up against the wall of the ER bay, keeping him out of the way as a swarm of doctors, nurses, and techs surrounded Raul. Jared knew it was only his uniform and Travis's that had allowed them to stay this long. Getting in the way would fast result in getting him kicked out. But he couldn't see from here. And he needed to see--he needed to get hands on Raul, skin to skin, even if it was just his hand. Jared hardly listened to the staccato call and response of the doctors' demands for information and supplies, and the nurses' replies. He knew what some of those terms were--they didn't, they couldn't apply to Raul. Not to the smiling, laughing, gorgeous man who shared Jared's life and Jared's bed. Not his Raul. Jared heard the heart monitor stutter and stall. He heard commands for drugs and perceived someone standing on a box, giving CPR. He heard the piercing unbroken note indicating flatline, but it faded away to background as the flurry of activity went on. Until the person on the box stepped down, and movement and sound stilled, and a voice noted the time. Jared struggled against Travis's hold and finally tore himself free. He reached the side of the stretcher where Raul lay, pale and bloody and silent and still. His hand was still warm. His face was, too, under the blood and the late-afternoon stubble when Jared cupped his cheek. He flung himself across the stretcher, arms seeking his husband's form, searching for breath, for movement. Someone was wailing inconsolably, someone close, in this very room. There was a sting in Jared's arm, and the room and Raul and everything else faded away.

*  *  *

"Raul!" Jared sat up, eyes wide in the dark, heart slowing as the nightmare faded around him. He shuddered, dropped his head into his hands, and then jumped, his heart leaping, as someone's weight shifted next to him in the bed.

"Jared?" Jensen was awake now, sitting up. A hand sought Jared's shoulder. "You all right, man?"

Jared rubbed his chest, where his breathing was trying to settle back to normal, and nodded. In the dark, he realized, and found breath to utter, "Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I'm okay."

Jensen's hand found Jared's, and then flattened over his heart. After a minute, Jensen sat up fully and turned to face him. "I don't think so. Hey." Fingers stroked Jared's cheek before the hand returned to his shoulder. "Anything I can do?"

Jared took Jensen's hand in his and shook his head. In the dark, he reminded himself again. "No. Just a dream. Let's just go back to sleep."

Jensen didn't argue, but he pushed and nudged at Jared till he lay on his side, and then Jensen spooned up behind him, one arm under the pillow beneath Jared's head, the other wrapped around his torso, Jared's hand in his, their fingers laced together. Jared had become unused to spooning in bed. Even when it had been a nightly practice, he had rarely been the little spoon. Now though, it felt good having Jensen at his back, as if he was protected, somehow. Jensen's warm breath puffed against his neck, the back of his ear. His chest moved with his regular breathing against Jared's back, and Jared's breathing adapted to the same rhythm. He hadn't planned it, but somehow the words just emerged, on their own, without the pain they had always brought when he'd said them before.

"Raul was my husband."

He felt Jensen nod. "I know." He didn't ask for anything more. But Jared went on, finding a kind of relief as the words found their way out.

"He died. I was there. I dream about it, sometimes."

Jensen's arms tightened. "I'm so sorry."

Jared nodded. Neither of them said anything else, and soon his breathing deepened, and he was asleep. Jensen tucked in a little closer, and then he fell asleep, too.

*  *  *

Jared woke to an empty bed, and the scents of coffee and bacon. He took a quick shower and pulled on sweats and a tee shirt before heading for the kitchen, still scrubbing at his wet hair with a towel.

Jensen grinned at him and poured a fresh mug of coffee, setting it and the sugar and cream on the end of the bar. "Breakfast in five. You want peppers or onions in your eggs?"

Jared breathed in the fragrant steam, nodding before he took his first sip. "Both," he answered, the coffee working on the wakeup job the shower had started. He ambled out onto the deck, bare feet leaving footprints on the dewy deck boards. He stared into the lightening sky, the sun slowly gilding everything as it rose.

"Hey," Jensen called from inside. "Little help, here?"

Jared set his mug on the patio table and went inside to get the tray that held juice, glasses, forks, napkins, and Jensen's coffee mug, while Jensen spooned eggs onto plates for each of them, and brought out the plates.

They didn't attempt conversation, it felt comfortable not talking. Once the plates were empty, they sat back, sipping their coffee and enjoying the morning, silent except for birdsong.

"It was a domestic disturbance that escalated," Jared began. "There were about fifteen, maybe twenty officers on scene." It wasn't difficult at all for the words to come, once he started. Not the way he'd expected it to be, and dreaded, for all this time. He wanted Jensen to know. It was time.

"The house had been cleared." His coffee was gone, so he reached for the pitcher and poured half a glass of juice. "Room by room. Travis and Raul had assessed the wounded so they could treat them. Travis was working on the woman, and Raul had the husband. He was fighting Raul, though, and I started to step in to hold the guy down, when I heard this...sound, behind me. Before I could turn, there was a shot, and then I did turn, and saw three or four officers taking down another guy with a gun. I turned back to check on Raul, and." He stopped. Swallowed. Had to find his voice again. "He'd been shot."

Jensen's face furrowed in sympathy, but he said nothing, and Jared went on. "Nobody noticed the attic access hatch. The husband's brother had hidden in the attic while we were coming in, and he just dropped down and started shooting."

Jared tossed back his juice like a shot of whiskey, and set the glass down with a sharp rap. "Travis tried to stop the bleeding, but it was bad. We got him on the bus, and to the ER in minutes, but he coded on the way. They got a heartbeat in the ER, but he flatlined in spite of all they could do, and they just couldn't get him back."

"I'm so sorry, Jared."

Jared nodded. "Thanks." He stood and started inside. "I gotta go."

Jensen looked at the breakfast things, and started clearing up. Jared rushed back outside to Jensen, and kissed him on the cheek. He put a key to the front door in Jensen's hand. "I'll see you tonight?"

Jensen wrapped his fingers tight around the key, and kissed him back. "Of course."

* * *

The next two days were nonstop hell. With a kidnapping, Jeff had no choice but to call in the FBI.

Everyone in the department wanted Denalda found, wanted Lewis in custody, and both those things as soon as possible, so they did what they could to accommodate the agents. But it was strange and uncomfortable in the office, with agents commandeering desks and phones, and ordering all calls and information routed through them. It was awkward, and difficult to get anything done, when you felt like you were being observed, and not performing up to FBI standard.

It was left to Jeff to try to reassure and comfort Tom Williams. He didn't think he did a very good job. But the agents were less reassuring, and certainly didn't have time to comfort the victim's family.

Jared escaped to a cruiser, to spend the first day combing the countryside in search of Denalda's car, or some as-yet undiscovered hole where Lewis had gone into hiding. He thought at least he'd be out of the feds' vicinity, but one of the agents opened the passenger door and slid into the seat. Swell. At least he didn't have to talk much. The agent kept up a running monologue about, apparently, every operation he'd ever taken part in. Jared had never been so happy to park his cruiser at the end of his shift, and go write up his report. It was relatively short, mainly a list of the places he had investigated that day, with no results.

*  *  *

Jensen had shopped, and had started on dinner by the time Jared got home.

"Don't get used to this," he warned Jared. "It's only because your job is kicking your ass right now, and you need a little taking care of. Go shower. This will be ready soon."

The steaks were thick and juicy, and the quartered potatoes and asparagus spears were tender and ready to go. Jared plated everything and set the plates on the table, just as the last of the sun glowed over the trees and the first stars pricked through the dark sky above. He lit a couple of candles and called for Jensen, who appeared with an open bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Mmm, kisses appetizer," Jensen murmured, once Jared released his lips. He set the glasses beside their plates, and poured the wine. "I like it."

Crickets and tree frogs had gotten their counterpoint chorus underway by the time the men had finished, and they sat on a little while, watching the stars and finishing off the bottle. Jared took his plate and his half-full glass inside to load the dishwasher, and Jensen followed. While Jared finished loading, Jensen stretched out on the couch, where he could watch the stars through the open glass door. Jared joined him, carefully arranging limbs so they both fit, and so his heavier body wouldn't crush Jensen.

He nosed at Jensen's ear, and along his jawline, licking a wet stripe and blowing hot breath on it. Jensen squirmed a little beneath him, and Jared took his empty wineglass and set it aside. Jensen's hands came up to cup Jared's face, and the kisses were languid and sweet and warm, until they became more insistent. Jensen wriggled underneath Jared and gasped. His hips rolled up, seeking friction, and he grabbed for Jared's hand, pulling it down to cover the growing bulge in his pants.

"Touch me," he whispered, his eyes wide and bright in the light from the sky and the stars outside. "Please, Jared."

They shifted, more side by side, to free Jared's hand to cup and massage Jensen's cock through his pants. Encouraged by Jensen's tight-shut eyes and the noises he was making, Jared popped the snap and eased the zipper down, working his hand inside to rub over soft cotton at the leaking hardness. Jensen whimpered, clutching at Jared's shirt, his shoulders, running his hands over his face, his back, and clutching at him again. "Please, Jared, please!"

Nosing against Jensen's jaw and neck, Jared sneaked a look down to where his hand was lowering the waistband of Jensen's boxer briefs. Freed, Jensen's cock sprang up, larger than Jared had expected, flushed and leaking.

Jared wrapped his hand around it, and Jensen _sobbed_ , writhing, seeking friction, chasing release. Jared couldn't stand it another minute. He slipped off the couch and went to his knees beside it, bent to take Jensen's dick in his mouth. He gazed up at Jensen's face while he did it, and the utter shock and loss of control urged him on. He swallowed as much of it in one stroke as he could, hollowing his cheeks and sucking, stroking the underside with his tongue.

"Hah--Ja--red!" Jensen cried, his hips arching to force his cock deeper into the wet, welcome heat of Jared's mouth. His hands clenched tight on nothing, merely balled into empty fists, his mouth gaping wide, and he pumped up once, twice, three times, and Jared's mouth was flooded with salty come. Floods of it, more than he could swallow, and he swiped with his thumb at what leaked out the corners past the still-quivering column of Jensen's dick.

Jared finished swallowing, and knelt up to look into Jensen's face. Eyes still closed, mouth open, lax, but his breathing was slowing back to normal. Jared took the closest hand and gently opened it, rubbing until the fingers relaxed before planting a soft kiss in the palm. He did the same for the other hand, watching Jensen's face the whole while. He saw the eyes open, starlight reflected in them--and he imagined it wasn't all from the sky. He traced a fingertip along Jensen's hairline and down his jaw, and bent to plant a soft, undemanding kiss on those open, inviting lips. Jensen looked at him then, really seeing him, and Jared asked, "Okay?"

An expression somewhere between incredulity and affection settled on his features, and then he smiled.

"Yeah," he said.

* * *

"Have you checked the McCready place, out past Route 14?" Jeff asked his deputies. The agents in the office stopped what they were doing to listen.

"I drove past there yesterday," Adrian said. "It looked deserted. There weren't any vehicles, that I could see, so I didn't take a closer look."

"Did you drive up to the house?"

"No," Adrian said, ruefully. "I just slowed down and took a good look from the road."

"Okay, you go back out there and take a better look. Take Jason with you."

Adrian nodded, and he and Jason got up to leave.

"Sheriff Morgan."

Jeff's attention went to the agent in charge.

"I'd like one of my agents to ride along." He nodded to a clean-cut academy type, blond, with a jaw as square as his shoulders. The agent rose and checked his holstered service pistol, and grabbed the kevlar vest with "FBI" emblazoned across the front and back.

"Ready when you are," he nodded to Adrian.

Jeff turned to Danay. "I need you to take another look at those farms out along Harker Road," he told her. "You and Jake." He quirked an eyebrow at AIC Mackie, who nodded at another of his agents. "I know people live there, but there are barns and sheds we haven't searched," he told them. "We missed something the first time. Be thorough, but be safe." Danay and Jake nodded, and they and the agent left together.

Jeff turned to his office manager. "You be okay here? I need you to keep tabs on where everybody is, and what they're doing, and let me know the minute somebody finds something. Caroline will be in this afternoon to give you a hand."

Merrilyn's response was confident. "Of course, sheriff."

Jeff gave her a quick smile of approval. "Agent Mackie, would you like to ride with me and my deputy?" He nodded at Jared. "There's a string of old mine shafts I want to look at. It's a long shot, but we haven't turned up anything yet, anywhere. I just want to cross them off the list."

*  *  *

The mines were a complete waste of time. It was easy to tell that the soil and loose rock around the entrances hadn't been disturbed in a long time. Even so, they investigated the tunnels, flashlights probing into the darkness, until they were certain nothing and nobody had been that way.

Emerging into daylight again, Jeff checked with Merrilyn. Jake and Danay were still clearing outbuildings on the Harker Road farms, but she hadn't heard from Adrian or Jason in a while. Jeff thanked her, and started to contact Adrian, when Agent Mackie's radio crackled. The voice on the other end was barely audible, and Mackie thumbed up the volume. "Say again, Agent Charles."

"We're close, sir. Lewis is here, we had brief visual contact with both him and the Williams woman before they retreated further into the house. So far there's no indication that he knows we are here."

Those listening caught a high, frantic wail in the background as Agent Charles was speaking. "Agent Mackie, requesting immediate backup! The hostage may be in imminent danger, but I don't know if the three of us can subdue Lewis before he kills her. Advise, please."

Jeff, Jared, and Mackie were in the cruiser and headed toward the old McCready ranch before Charles had finished speaking. "On our way, agent. Hold position, do not approach. Backup is on the way."

Jared drove, and Jeff reached for the radio. "Danay? Jason?"

Jason's voice replied. "Here, sir."

"The two of you get over to McCready's. Jake, Adrian, and Agent Charles have the subject within earshot, and he has Ms. Williams with him. We are on our way there now. Officers have been advised not to advance until backup arrives, so I suggest you haul ass."

"Yes, sir."

"And Jason?"

"Sir?"

"No lights, no siren. Get there fast, but come in quiet. We're hoping not to spook him into doing something rash."

"Got it, boss. Will do." And the speaker clicked off. Jeff called the department. When Merrilyn picked up, he instructed, "Get an ambulance out to the McCready place, Merrilyn. I hope we won't need it, but as far out as that place is, better safe than sorry."

"Yes sir. I'll get right on it."

"And Merrilyn," he added. "Tell the ambulance no lights, no siren. They need to get there as soon as possible, but it's an iffy situation, so they need to come in quiet so they don't set him off."

"I'll be sure to tell them, sir."

*  *  *

In the end, it was fairly straightforward. They approached quietly, surrounded the old farmhouse, and located the room where Lewis had Denalda tied up. Danay sneaked inside, made a noise in the next room, and when Lewis stepped away from his hostage to investigate the sound, officers rushed him, took him down, disarmed him, and took him into custody. Agent Mackie and Danay untied Ms Williams. A quick assessment showed shallow cuts to her arms and torso, but nothing that wouldn't heal quickly. The paramedics moved in hastily to get her into the ambulance and on her way to the hospital.

The FBI took custody of Lewis. He was housed overnight in the Sheriff Department's jail, with one of the federal agents guarding him at all times. The next morning transport arrived, the prisoner was loaded up, and driven out of Middlebrook with no ceremony at all. AIC Mackie gave the sheriff and the roomful of deputies a nod of approval.

"Nice working with you, Sheriff. Deputies. The federal government will take it from here." He and the two agents with him walked out without another word. There was a certain emptiness when they were gone. It would take a day or two to reclaim the office, and the atmosphere they were used to.

* * *

Jared and Caroline went to work trying to find relatives of Ben Martin, to inform them of his death, and find out if there was anyone to claim the body. It took a day and a half, but there was a sister in Boise. She suffered from some chronic illness, and wouldn't be able to come collect Ben's body herself. Jared arranged for shipment, rode shotgun in the hearse to the airport, and saw the coffin loaded on the plane. Caroline tracked down the ministry who had assigned Ben as pastor to Middlebrook, and informed them of his death. She began a discussion with them as to how they might send information to congregations about a new pastor, with information, description, and a photograph. This was an unusual crime, but it should be fairly simple to prevent it happening again somewhere else.

Jeff went to visit Denalda Williams, and came back to report that she was recovering quickly. Tom expressed his gratitude to the department for all they did in getting her back alive. And things were settling back to normal.

Jensen had called Jared once or twice, asking if he wanted some company. But Jared put him off, making excuses for not seeing him. Tired. Busy with clearing up after the case. We'll get together later.

He finally admitted to himself that he was stalling, avoiding facing the fact that he'd fallen for Jensen, head over heels. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that. There were differences there that he had never encountered, never considered before Jensen, and he didn't know if that was something he was prepared to live with. He didn't know if he was prepared to live with anybody again. He just didn't know. He came home to his dark and empty house, threw a frozen entree into the microwave while he showered, and ate it on the couch in front of the TV. He couldn't have told you what was on, if you had asked him later. He cleared up after eating, put his beer bottle in recycling, and fell into bed, hoping for the oblivion of sleep.

* * *

The waiting room chairs were hard. The voice on the loudspeaker droned at random intervals, names, instructions, always the same tone, the same cadence. The door to outside hissed and people came and went, hurrying up to the reception desk, voices edged with worry, asking about names, conditions, directions. Some of them sat, and the chill air eddied in their wake as they passed Jared.

A doctor would appear and call a name and a group, or an individual, would stand in response, and there would be a quiet discussion, followed by tears, sometimes happy tears and expressions of gratitude. People left, going to see those they had come here worrying about, or going home without them.

The PA system droned on, passing messages and inquiring after staff, family, the owner of the red Taurus blocking the ambulance entrance.

There was a change in the air and Jared looked up. Raul stood a few feet away, calm and seemingly normal despite the blood soaking the halves of the uniform shirt that had been cut away to expose his chest.

"Got to stop meeting like this, JT."

Jared started to stand, to go to him, take him in his arms, but something--he didn't know what--kept him in his seat. "Raul--"

"You got a life to live, brah. You need to move on, and stop hangin' around this morbid place."

It took him a minute, but he got the words out. "I can't."

"JT, this ain't helpin' me. And it sure ain't helping you."

"I can't just forget you!"

"Nobody's askin' you to. But baby, you got friends, and a new life, and somebody who's willing to take a chance on loving you. You really need to move on."

Raul's smile was sad, but firm, and he met Jared's eyes unflinchingly. Jared shook his head.

"I...can't. I don't know how." He sobbed, scrubbing the tears off his face with his fingers.

"JT."

Jared looked up, met those beautiful brown eyes. Raul was still smiling, even though he'd started to fade a little, grown a little transparent. "Man, you need to let me go." By the last word, Raul was gone. And Jared was awake, his face wet with tears.

* * *

Jensen left him alone another day before he called with another dinner invitation. "You haven't tried my mom's cacciatore," Jensen's voice was full of temptation. "Baked. Served over orzo. Mmmm." His voice sounded purely sinful.

Jared surrendered with a chuckle. "Yes, okay, cacciatore at your place, tonight. Should I bring anything?"

"Naw," Jared could hear the smile in Jensen's voice. "I got it. Seven?"

"Yeah, seven's good. See you then."

Dinner was almost as good as Jensen's voice had promised. Jared decided he needed to meet Jensen's mom. From her recipes that he had sampled, she was an awesome cook.

"Dessert and coffee?" Jensen asked, and Jared shook his head. He picked up the half empty bottle of wine and his glass.

"Let's finish this outside, first. Come on. I need to tell you something."

Jensen started to clear the table, but Jared hooked an arm around his waist. "Let that sit. We'll do it later."

Jensen grabbed his glass and let Jared sweep him out onto the terrace. Jared dropped his arm and put a few steps between them, turning to face Jensen. He sipped his wine, and then set the glass down, putting his hands in his pockets to stop them fidgeting.

"I'm sorry I've put you off the last few days," he began. Jensen said nothing, and he continued. "There has been a lot going on at the department, closing up and cleaning up after the case. But that wasn't the only reason. I needed some time to think."

He risked a glance at Jensen, who was studying his shoes, his face in shadow. Jared went on. "I spent these few days thinking hard about things that might not work out the way I've always expected, if we decide to be together. And if I could live with that, be satisfied with what we have. If I'd be tempted to go looking elsewhere for something more. For sex, the way I've always thought of it."

Jensen's eyes darted up to meet his, and then away. He nodded, and Jared could feel his disappointment. Jared couldn't let that stand.

"But then I caught a good look at myself, and I literally laughed myself breathless. Because I realized something." He wanted badly to wrap his arms around Jensen and hold him close, soothe away the disappointment. But he stood where he was, and used his words. "I realized I'm already too much in love with you to decide not to be."

Jensen's chin came up, his eyes sought Jared's, a small puzzled frown between his brows. Jared wanted to reach out and smooth it away with his fingertips.

"Jensen, I love _you_. I love your face, your body, your voice. I love listening to you talk, I love your humor, and the way you can make me laugh. I love how you are with friends, what a good person you are. And I love that you can be a first-class flake, and be okay with that."

"I love kissing you, and holding you, being held by you. I love exploring your body and finding out what drives you crazy, what makes you squirm, and I love watching your face when you come. I love your hands on me, hearing you breathe my name when you make me come."

"I love you. I love me when I'm with you; I think I'm a better person. I know I'm a happier person when we're together. I love _us._ I would be so proud, and so glad, if you wanted to be with me, too."

Jensen shook his head, and Jared could tell he was thinking through his own doubts and misgivings.

"I don't think I could be any happier than the way we are right now. Whatever we're not doing? I don't miss it."

Jensen looked at him in surprise, and started to speak, but Jared put up a hand to stop him, and repeated what he had said. "No, really, I don't. And I don't know, maybe we'll get there, maybe we won't. But either way, it's not going to change how I feel about you, about us."

Giving in, finally, to his need for contact, he wrapped his arms around Jensen and pulled him in against his chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. "So stop it. Stop trying to apologize for something that--" he looked down and made sure Jensen's eyes met his own. "--really doesn't matter. I love you, and I'm not backing off or giving you up." He squeezed Jensen tight until he squeaked a little, then eased up and backed off enough to see Jensen's face. "So unless you leave me--and I would make that far too difficult, so you might as well not even try it--you're stuck with me."

Jensen took a step back, and watched Jared's face. "And, Raul?" he asked, quietly.

It surprised Jared, but his answer was sure and solid. "Raul was my past. The past is always part of us, but you are my present. The future is us, together. This week has reminded me that life is shorter than we think, and anything can happen, to anybody, at any time. I know what I want. I want you. I want to be with you, and I don't want to waste any more time." He took a deep breath, his future in Jensen's hands. "What do you want, Jensen?"

Jensen's smile was small, but it broadened, and brightened until it was almost blinding in its happiness. It was the only answer he needed.

**Fin**

* * * 

* * *

 **[Master Post on Live Journal](http://fufaraw.livejournal.com/44954.html)** | **[Art Master Post on Live Journal](http://mishmellow.livejournal.com/2273.html)**

**Fic writers essentially work for tips. If you enjoyed the story, drop a dollar in the comments box. Thanks.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author notes:** All honor and tribute to **wendy** , without whom this challenge would have crashed and burned long ago.
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful artist, **mishmellow** . She was so responsive to both the story and the visual ideas I shared. Somehow she created something entirely original, and completely right.
> 
> My heartfelt, eternal gratitude to the world's best beta, **spn_j2fan** , for her unending patience, her uncompromising demand for excellence, her unflinching honesty, and her unflagging enthusiasm for this story and its often adrift writer. Thank you for believing and shepherding it, and me.
> 
> I have the best support group in the world. No, I do. So many thanks to my amazing, incredible POV reader, **meus_venator** , who is also my tech-enabler beyond compare. And also, to **sophiap** , for the honest and valuable fast and dirty cold read that gave this fic new legs.
> 
> The title of the fic refers, of course, to the bad old adage, "all cats are grey in the dark," meaning one sex partner is the same as any other. But in this case, the "grey" also refers to grey asexuality.
> 
> And as a little bonus for those of you who have read thus far (you have, haven't you? read this far?), below is a cast list of the characters in the fic. I liked the idea of using actors who have guest starred on Supernatural through the seasons. And here they are.
> 
> Adrian Holmes (Demon, 3.15, Time is on My Side), Deputy * Caroline Chikezie (Tamara, 3.01, Magnificent Seven), Deputy * Danay Garcia (Ellie, 8.14, Trial and Error), Deputy * Merrilyn Gann (Madge Carrigan, 3.08, A Very Supernatural Christmas), Sheriff's Department Office Manager * Aldis Hodge (Jake Talley, 2.21 & 2.22, All Hell Breaks Loose I & II), Trauma MD * Christie Laing (Taylor, 1.07, Hook Man/Robert Johnson's Crossroads Demon, 2.08, Crossroad Blues), sandwich shop owner * Sasha Barrese (Casey, 3.04, Sin City), Beth's assistant at Gallimaufry * Denalda Williams (Doris, 3.11, Mystery Spot), librarian * Patty McCormack (Eleanor Holmes, 8.03, Heartache), accident victim * Kevin McNally (Frank Deveraux, four episodes, season 7), Medical Examiner * Lauren Tom (Linda Tran), real estate agent * Jim Beaver (Bobby Singer), consulting veterinarian * Jake Abel (Adam Milligan), Deputy. And RP characters who have not appeared in any season of Supernatural: Beth Riegert, Christian Kane, Jason Manns, Steve Carlson


End file.
